Save the Best for Last
by AlyJay
Summary: A teenage girl finds herself in a deadly game of cat and mouse with the infamous Joker to roughen up her senior year. To make matters worse, she inadvertently drags family friend Bruce Wayne into her mess.
1. Chapter 1: The Calm Before the Storm

Yes, this unfinished story has been posted before and yes, the super smart author somehow deleted it. I switched computers with my sister in college and had to wait until she could email me all my stuff. Until she did, I held all of her crap hostage. So, once again for tonight, here's chapter one.

**Chapter One: The Calm Before the Storm**

"All I really need is a title, but I think I will anyway," seventeen year old Lindsey Brooks answered, taking up fellow school paper writer and best friend Kelsey's offer to sit in on the school's varsity football practice the next day. Both girls had their different reasons. Kelsey was writing about the undefeated status of the team. Lindsey would use the excuse that she and Kelsey were co-writing the article, but her real story was the steroid use being overlooked by the success of the team.

Most of the staff in on Lindsey's story knew she had some sort of unexplainable vendetta against the athletic department officials, but felt she was justified. The school's football and track teams- the most successful ones- were known amongst the students at North Gotham High as the most notorious. The varsity football team members especially were frequently returning to school after the weekends hung over and almost every day smelling of smoke.

Lindsey made sure to speak with the paper supervisor Mr. Riley for permission to write a potentially damaging article. Lucky for her, he shared her feelings about the biased, pretending to be oblivious coaches. The head football coach being his estranged brother worked in her favor as well.

"So, coach told me it'd be a long practice. Do you think you'll need a ride home?" Kelsey offered. Lindsey shook her head, "My Bug should be out of the shop by then but I'll let you know. You still good for taking me home today?"

"Of course."

As usual for the month Lindsey's blue Volkswagen Beetle was being repaired, Kelsey drove Lindsey back to her condo. Rather, her mother's boyfriend's condo. Lindsey's father died of a car crash when she was eleven. Her mother Joan started dating her British colleague Shawn Partridge three years ago a few months after the law firm they developed took off. The Brooks girls just recently moved in with him in his upscale condo before school started for Lindsey and Abby.

Lindsey felt moving in with him was a bad idea, and felt that her Bug being t-boned by a drunk driver only two days after the move was an omen. She didn't necessarily dislike Shawn. She just didn't feel he was right for her mother. Then again, anyone besides her late father would never be good enough for her mother.

On the contrary, Lindsey's nine-year-old sister Abby loved Shawn. Lindsey was convinced she only liked him because he went out of his way to spoil her rotten. Abby had him wrapped around her little finger.

"I'm home," Lindsey announced to the empty condo, just in case. She was greeted by a note and some cash on the kitchen counter.

"Linds," she read out loud, "Shawn and I will be going out to eat with Bruce again tonight. Mrs. DeFranc will bring Abby home from ballet around seven. The money's just in case you want to go out to eat or order. You can keep it if anyway if you decide to just eat home food. Shawn will be driving your Bug home tonight so you'll have your baby back in the morning. Love you. Mom."

Lindsey promptly wadded up the note and tossed it carelessly in the wastebasket. Shawn and especially Joan were close friends with Bruce Wayne. Joan lived next door to him until she went off to college. Being about ten years older, she was often requested to babysit the troublesome Bruce and Rachel.

Lindsey smirked; remembering a time Bruce admitted that Joan had been his first crush. She held no doubt he may still be somewhat attracted to her mother. Joan in no way looked like a forty one year old mother of two. Nevertheless, after Bruce's parents' death, Joan continued visiting and acting as older sister to him.

Lindsey didn't care to advertise the fact that she had an "Uncle Bruce" at school. While she adored him when he was just around her family (when he would treat them to dinner or stay with the girls when Joan and Shawn were out for example) she was repulsed by his public behavior, which turned him into an egotistical, irritating, sometimes dim-witted playboy.

As per every Thursday night, Mrs. Joyce DeFranc dropped Abby off at from her dance lessons. Joyce owned the dance studio and was best friends with Joan. She had a daughter Lindsey's age named Claire, who was the soon to be valedictorian at North Gotham High. Lindsey only knew her in passing, though.

"Can we order pizza?" Abby later asked after taking her shower. Lindsey scrunched her nose, "We had pizza last night and you had cold pizza for breakfast and for lunch."

"I like pizza," was Abby's eager answer. Lindsey found any attempts to convince her little sister with other food options futile. She decided to just order a small personal pan pizza and pocket the rest of the money.

Upon receiving her pizza half an hour later, Abby hungrily ate almost half of the meal. Lindsey wrapped up the rest and put in the refrigerator. By that time, it was close to nine o clock, Abby's bedtime.

"I'm not tired yet!" Abby protested, remaining unmoved on the couch as she watched cartoons.

"Well, you're going to bed anyway," Lindsey stated with resolve. Abby just folded her arms and pouted.

"Abby, go to bed," Lindsey ordered once more, and added with frustration, "You don't have to brush your teeth tonight, just go to bed!"

Abby put a finger to her chin in a thoughtful pretense before hopping off the couch and skipping off to her room. Lindsey figured she'd play Barbies or whatever she usually did before actually going to sleep.

* * *

"John got way too bulky way too fast. Did coach really not notice?" Kelsey commented the next day as she and Lindsey sat in the bleachers watching the football practice session. Lindsey chuckled, "Of course he did. He probably gave him the steroids."

"You know," Kelsey added as an afterthought, "You should include how the South Gotham coaches do drug tests once every month, even though the team sucks."

"Mr. Riley already got a statement from their coach about it. West Gotham too."

"It's a good thing we have three other high schools in this area."

Lindsey laughed, knowing where Kelsey was going with her statement, "I know. I'll have a few options when I have to transfer. They'll be willing to except me too."

The girls shared a laugh before receiving the stink eye from Coach James. He'd gone to military boot camp, but went back to teaching gym afterwards. The students thought he attended solely to learn new torture techniques for the freshmen that were required to take a full year of gym and were unfortunate enough to get him as their teacher.

Lindsey watched the players closely, keeping an eye on quarterback and MVP John Carey. He was the one who gave her inspiration on her story idea. He was least often seen with the team during their workouts, spent more time talking and drinking and partying than practicing, and yet had gone from the rather puny second string JV player in junior year to the star senior varsity quarterback.

John's evolution wasn't just from puny junior to hulking senior. In middle school, prior to his growth spurt before freshman year, he was the short chubby kid who would collapse struggling to catch his breath after tying his shoes. In ninth grade, he became the tall, lanky, awkward boy that his current girlfriend would toss back her head and cackle at the notion of going to homecoming together. Those of John's admirers would fawn over his hard work and dedication to become what he was that day, but others like Lindsey knew better.

It didn't help that John was an incorrigible asshole.

After practice, the girls retreated to the newspaper room to add finishing touches to their articles, which had to be sent to Mr. Riley for submission by the morning.

"I'm done," Kelsey announced, sending her page to Lindsey's computer for confirmation. Lindsey had to go through each page for the next issue to ensure the layouts were correct. After checking Kelsey's page last, she sent everything to Mr. Riley's computer for a final verification (or rather to add to the grade book).

"There," she half sighed. Kelsey had already left, so Lindsey shut everything down before exiting. As she entered the parking lot, she was somewhat surprised to find the sun setting. Checking the clock on her phone, she read 6:30.

As Lindsey made her way to her car (which Shawn had indeed driven home from the shop after the dinner date), she noticed an old pick-up close by with two men leering at her.

'Just keep walking. Don't make eye contact,' she thought to herself. A few of her friends had told her about encounters with intoxicated, middle aged thugs when staying after school. The school board had cameras installed in the parking lot after a few complaints for what little good they did. The school only had them turned on a few times a month for the same reason the heaters were rarely turned on. Frugality.

"Hey you," on of the men shouted as she passed the truck. Casting a glance sideways at them, Lindsey answered against her better judgment, "Do I know you?"

"We were just wondering if you could be used and abused for a little while," the older man said with a sneer. She suppressed a shudder and stated a firm, "Nope." She continued walking in a straight line toward her car.

"Now wait just a minute, bitch," the scruffy one shouted with an alcohol induced slur. She momentarily froze when she heard their car door open then slam shut. The heavy set rather tall one who'd called her a vulgar term was swaggering toward her and managed to grab her arm before she could get to the safety of her car.

"I think you're gonna give us a little ride, now aren't you?" he hissed in her face. Lindsey gagged at the putrid odor of his breath and tried to pull away, "No, I'm not."

He growled and roughly grabbed her by the waist, causing her to emit a terrified yelp. She jerked her knee up to hit him in the groin. He shouted in pain and doubled over. His buddy immediately hopped out of the truck and started running at her. With his short and scrawny graying stature Lindsey anticipated just how to get him down. Fortunately, he stopped in his trail as a pair of headlights blinded him.

Lindsey looked over her shoulder and saw a black car pull up along her car, caging the men in. Her face remained blank as Bruce Wayne stepped out of the back seat.

"Problem here, Miss Brooks?" he asked casually as he walked to stand next to her. The older man glared at him before climbing back into the drivers seat. The hefty one Lindsey kicked uttered a few choice words before limping back as well. Bruce and Lindsey stood in silence as the pick-up drove off into the night.

Bruce shook his head in disgust before gently touching Lindsey's shoulder, "Are you alright?"

She just shook him off, "Yeah."

"Has this happened before?"

Lindsey shrugged, "No. Not to me anyway." She added at Bruce's concerned look, "Telling the jackass principle won't do anything. He's the one who brushed off our winning football team using steroids because of the undefeated status and won't bother to turn on those security cameras because recording costs money."

He nodded, a knowing smile forming, "Your mother told me about that article you're writing about the steroid use. Very proud, I might add."

Lindsey scoffed, "Before of after she tried to convince me not to write the article? I really need to get home. Thank you, Bruce."

Bruce laughed, "You know I'm going to have to follow you. Joan's the one who sent me to make sure you get home from school safely. If she finds out I didn't, people get hurt."

"Huh. I never thought Bruce Wayne would be considered 'people,'" she responded sharply as she climbed into her blue Bug, "Goodnight." Without another word, she started her car and drove out of the maze called the school parking lot, fully aware that he would hold true to his word and tail her home.

Unfortunately, she wouldn't know the security cameras were on and recording until the next morning.

* * *

Nothing changed...other than the fact that it got deleted and has the emotional scars.


	2. Chapter 2: A Public Affair

**Chapter Two: A Public Affair**

Lindsey woke up that Saturday morning to the sound of her cell phone ringing. She grudgingly woke up and crawled/dragged herself down to the foot of her bed, where on the floor her purse was sitting. With her upper body hanging over the bed, she dug through her purse and retrieved her phone.

"'Lo?" she answered through a yawn.

"Oh don't sound so tired," Kelsey's voice snapped from the other end, "I know it's Saturday but you should be up!"

"Why?"

"Have you not watched the news?"

"Should I?"

"Yes!" Kelsey shouted, causing Lindsey to hold the phone away from her ear, "You're on it!"

With that, Lindsey's formerly sleep heavy eyes snapped open and she rolled out of bed with the gracefulness of a cow. She landed with a thud on the floor and half yelled, "What? Why?"

"Go to a TV, smart one!"

Lindsey nodded as if Kelsey could see her and jogged out of her room and into the living room. The TV was already playing the news and sure enough, security camera footage of her in the parking lot last evening was playing.

"Oh my God," she choked out, "What…what've they said about it so far? Is there audio on that?" The last thing Lindsey needed was Mr. Houser hearing her call him a jackass.

"No, no sound. They're talking about how billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne saved a North Gotham High School student from a potential mugging last night. They've been replaying the footage over and over again. Each time talking about how stupid said teenager was for walking alone in the parking lot so late in the evening."

Lindsey sat down on the couch slowly, staring at the TV in horror, "Have they said my name yet?"

"No. You're just 'the dumb teenager.' They said something about getting a statement from Bruce Wayne over the scene."

As if on cue, the news station switched reporters to one outside of Wayne Enterprises. Sure enough, he was standing with Bruce.

"If he says my name I swear…" Lindsey trailed off. Before Bruce started talking, the TV was turned off. Lindsey looked over her shoulder to see her mother standing behind the couch looking none too pleased.

"I gotta go, Kels," she muttered into the phone before snapping it shut. She stood up to her feet, facing her mother who now had her arms folded and lips pursed into a straight line.

"I would've liked to hear about this before everyone else in Gotham, Lindsey," she said piercingly. Lindsey shrugged meekly, "I'm sorry…I just…you know, I'm ok now. Of all the times this has happened to other girls at school I wasn't expecting my time to end up on the local news."

"This has happened to other girls?" Joan asked, her pretense changing from accusatory to alarmed. Lindsey nodded slowly, "I mean, teachers would break it up but…"

Joan threw her hands up in the air in disgust and stormed into the kitchen. Lindsey decided to follow as he mother ranted, "You would think the school would have the decency to inform us about these situations! Those cameras are not enough! Think about if those other girls didn't have a teacher show up or if Bruce…oh God Lindsey."

Joan promptly pulled Lindsey into a tight embrace, "I just can't bear to think about what could've happened. I'll have to call Bruce…ooh he'd better not mention your name to that reporter or I will march over there and bury him so deep into the ground that the heat from the Earth's core will incinerate his rich, tight ass!"

Lindsey chuckled as her mother went for the phone, "Mom, are seriously calling him?"

"No. I'm calling Principle Houser. I want him to know how disgusted I am that he allowed this to go public."

Lindsey gently took the phone away and set it on the hook, "Mom, it's ok. If you call, he might confirm that I was the student. Plus, he'll get his in the ass on Monday."

Joan furrowed her brow, "What do you mean?"

"My article will be published."

Joan nodded, but took the phone back, "I still need him to know that he's disgusting."

Lindsey laughed, "Alright. Hey where are Abby and Shawn?"

"Shawn's taking Abby to her friend Chloe's birthday party."

"You know," Lindsey started thoughtfully, "Judging by where Chloe lives, she'll go to South when she gets to high school. And Abby will go to North. They'll both most likely be cheerleaders. I doubt they'll still be friends after their freshmen year."

Joan waved her off, "Lindsey, not everyone's like that."

"Angela Benedetti was best friends with this girl named Emma Lyons up until sophomore year. Emma moved to South that summer and they pretty much hate each other now."

Joan stared at her daughter, "Hmm. I knew North and South High were rivals, but I didn't think that went outside of sports."

Lindsey nodded with an amused smile. Joan held the phone to her ear for a moment before slamming it on the hook, "Straight to voicemail. That man never answers messages. Why don't I just march over to his…"

Joan was interrupted by a knock on the door. Lindsey went to answer, allowing her mother to cool off a bit before welcoming company.

Both women were thoroughly shocked to see Bruce standing in the doorway. He offered Lindsey a warm smile, "Lindsey. Did you sleep well?"

"Um," she answered cleverly, "Yeah…oh, come in." Bruce nodded and stepped inside, pausing before stepping too close to Joan.

"Joan, I should have-"

"Damn right, you should have!" Joan cut him off, "You should've called me… or Shawn…but me! At least let me know my daughter was safe after almost being kidnapped or raped! Yes, of course, Lindsey should have informed me as well, but you, Bruce! I assumed you had a greater level of responsibility than that of a teenager!"

Lindsey put a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud at the scene. Her mother was now in Bruce's face, fists clenched at her sides, the veins popping out of her neck while Bruce- a man who was at least a foot taller than the five foot three woman- stood cowering in fear, obviously not expecting the be on the direct receiving end of Joan Brooks' wrath.

Joan apparently heard the snort Lindsey tried to stifle and pointed at her, "Not funny!"

"Sorry," Lindsey apologized through laughter.

Bruce turned his attention back to the fuming woman, "Joan, did I ever stop being the little kid down the street you would pretend to babysit while you had phone sex with that Michael Carey?"

"Why do you remember his name?" Joan asked somewhat disbelieving. She would always claim to have forgotten the names of high school sweethearts. The name caught Lindsey's attention, though.

"Michael Carey? Does he have a son? A son who happens to be at the brunt of my article?" Lindsey laughed, "Is that the real reason you didn't want me to write it? You were trying to protect loverboy?"

Joan glared at her daughter, "This is not Grease. Don't ever use that term again. Now go to your room, I'm not done yelling at him."

Lindsey mock saluted, sending Bruce a wink before retreating to her room. In the light of the morning, she almost forgot about the news story.

* * *

The weekend flew by relatively fast. Lindsey attributed it to the fact that she was somewhat anxious in a nervous way for Mr. Riley to bring in the printed newspapers during fourth period on Monday.

Lindsey sat in her chair in the newsroom, sliding it around the tile floor and occasionally spinning. Another one of the writers, Rachel Jenson, finally got fed up with Lindsey's nervous behavior and pushed the chair back to her station.

"You shouldn't be sliding around," she said, "This floor has holes."

Lindsey looked up at her, "Seriously?"

Rachel nodded, "Yeah. It's not just a myth like the boogeyman. The floor wasn't quite finished before they lay the tiles down."

The feature writer, Corey Hawker, shouted to Rachel from across the room, "You should know the boogeyman exists."

"Corey, shut up. I was eight!"

"Plus seven," Corey added under his breath, but loud enough so Rachel could hear him. Before she could respond, Mr. Riley entered the room, the rolling bins of newspapers stacked high and ready.

Lindsey stayed put in her chair as the rest of the team went two to each bin. Mr. Riley offered her an encouraging smile, but she still felt the bundle of nerves. Kelsey grabbed the bin she and Lindsey pegged as theirs (it was the only purple on amongst greens and blues) and pulled Lindsey from her seat.

"Let's go!"

* * *

"Hey Lindsey!"

Lindsey stopped on the staircase and looked up at the second floor ledge to see John Carey and his best friend Nick Ramie gazing down at her- newspaper in hand.

"Don't move!"

She quirked an eyebrow and calmly walked down the rest of the stairs and pushed her way to her locker. She decided that day to live up to the senior expectations and not apologize when running into somebody.

Soon enough, John and Nick made their way up to her, standing on either side of her.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that Brooks?" John sneered down at her. Lindsey remained calm, almost amused. As nervous as she was for the school to read her story, she was most eager to see John's reaction. It was exactly as she imagined it.

Nick had taken the paper from John and was reading it out loud, "'Many students and teachers alike have observed the unusual success of the varsity football team as well as the unusually brutal performance by the team members. Blah, blah, blah… statement concludes that the use of performance enhancing drugs is prominent in our varsity football players but is being overlooked by the athletic board due to the undefeated status of the team." He looked up at John with a smirk, "Busted."

"Shut up!" John ordered Nick and looked back down at Lindsey, "You think this is funny? Coach is issuing a mandatory drug test today during seventh period. You know what this means, Brooks?"

Lindsey shrugged and nodded her head in Nick's direction, "What he said?"

John's eyes narrowed to slits as he crouched over to be more in her face, "I either take the test, get kicked off, or I don't take it and I get benched for the rest of the season. Scouts are coming, Brooks! I'm asking again, do you know what this means?"

Another female voice sounded from behind the trio, "That you're screwed? That your whole team is screwed? Yes. She knows."

Lindsey looked over her shoulder to see the school's activist Monica DuPriest smirking at Nick and John.

Saying there was bad blood between Monica and Nick and John was an understatement. In sophomore year, when Monica and Nick were on debate team, Monica gathered the team to go to the administrative offices and convince the school board to get rid of the Coke vending machines and dessert lunch lines. Nick pulled a Brutus and turned the presentation around, claiming there was nothing wrong with the lunch system and sucked up to the administrators to add even more vending machines. He won them over and Monica was so angry that she slashed Nick's tires.

With John and Monica, there was no real story of the animosity between them. They just plain didn't like each other.

John tossed one more glare in both girls' directions before storming off. Nick chuckled and handed Lindsey a folded up piece of paper.

"It's almost the end of football season, Brooks. Know what that means?" he asked excitedly, "Housapalooza five...or six…hell, let's say ten! Friday. Be there. It's pretty exclusive this year."

Lindsey laughed and shook her head as Nick flounced off. He hosted a big blowout at his house around the end of every football season, and any other time he could. He was the stereotypical party guy, inviting freshmen girls, drugging them, taking them to motels…

Overall, Nick Ramie was the one every teenage girl's parents would not want to date and every teenage boy's parents don't want them to be like.

Monica scoffed as Lindsey opened the invitation. Lindsey smiled, "Yeah. I'll be there. What is he thinking? I'll be killed!"

Monica shook her head, "You won't. They'll be too chicken shit to do anything in a neighborhood. Hey, are you coming to the rally after school?"

Lindsey blinked. It was typical of Monica to host a rally for no apparent reason, but she never got a personal invitation. Then again, she never really spoke to Monica before.

"What's it about this time?"

"Do you really think John's that stumped over what to do with the drug test?" Monica asked in a 'no shit, Sherlock' tone of voice, "He knows exactly what he's gonna do- switch them. It's pretty stupid and they'll find out anyway, but I don't want him to get away with it and have coach just cover it up for him. Mr. James would do that you know."

Lindsey held up hand to stop the other girl's ranting, "So, you're going to tell everybody that John switched tests?"

"I know it doesn't sound like much now. But when it happens, it will be killer," Monica answered deviously, "Trust me. See ya."

"She's what?" Kelsey asked as Lindsey half dragged her outside where Monica and her followers were holding their customary rally.

"Exposing John and I guess some of the rest of the team."

"You know that when this is all over we'll have an entire varsity team of second string and decent JV players?" Kelsey asked. Lindsey just nodded, "Well I mean, I knew it would cause the school to issue a drug test, but I didn't think this would get in Monica's hands like this."

"Your phone's ringing," Kelsey announced. Lindsey cursed and dug through her Canada sized purse to find her phone.

"Shawn texted me," she told Kelsey before reading the message out loud, "'Need you home now.'"

"Guess you're missing this. I'll tell you how it goes," Kelsey reassured. Lindsey thanked her and jogged around to the parking lot. Her phone rang as she got in her car.

"Hello?"

"Lindsey, where are you?" Joan asked on the other end of the line. Lindsey rolled her eyes, "I'm on my way home, Mother."

"Were you staying after for something?"

"Yeah, but it's not necessary. Really, it's not. What's going on? Shawn said I'm needed at home?"

"Yes. We'll talk about it when you get here. Bye," with that, Joan hung up. Lindsey shook her head with an eye roll. She assumed her mother and Shawn would be going away "on business" for a week or two.

As fate would have it, she was right.

"England," Joan confirmed, "Two weeks."

Lindsey stared at the two of them from her spot on one of the barstools in the kitchen. Abby was sitting on her lap.

When she received no response, Joan continued, "You can either stay here and Bruce said he'll have his butler Alfred come in the mornings and evenings or you can stay with Bruce for those two weeks. Your choice."

"Can we go with you?" Abby asked innocently. Lindsey sighed, "No Ab. They need their grown up bonding time."

"Lindsey," Joan warned. Shawn tried to reason, "We'll be staying with my family. We've a meeting in the center next door with the London branch."

"Do you want us to move to London, Shawn? Is that what this trip is really about?" Lindsey asked none too friendly. Joan shook her head with a glare. Shawn tried to fake a laugh, "Well, no. It would be nice but-"

Joan put a hand on his chest, telling him no. Lindsey scoffed, "I knew it." She set Abby on the next barstool and started for her room, but froze as she passed the living room.

"…for the drug testing resulting from an article by senior Lindsey Brooks," the anchorwoman on the news announced. Lindsey stared doe-eyed at the television set. Joan had been coming after her and had the same reaction.

"A known face in Gotham sports Michael Carey says he's devastated by the attack on his son John Carey. The student in charge of the rally, senior Monica DuPriest, claims the fault lies on John."

The screen switched to show a reporter with Monica, who was ranting as usual, "All the varsity and JV players sucked last year. Their zero to hero Hercules success was fishy, and Lindsey's article just opened peoples eyes to an unwarranted problem we've been having for a long time. Now the prodigal son thinks he can, not only get away with being a dunce and staying on the team with 'performance enhancing drugs' but victimizing an innocent student into switches piss samples with him! Wait, I'm not done-"

The original anchorwoman returned to the screen and Lindsey noticed she was standing at the front entrance of the school, "For those of you just tuning in, we're live at North Gotham High School, where the undefeated North Gotham Warriors have been exposed with a disregarded use of steroids due to an article by the school paper's editor in chief, senior Lindsey Brooks. The article spawned a mandatory drug test for the varsity football team, which prompted another student, another senior Monica DuPriest to reveal a few of the star players switching tests with other students. Only one has been called out by name, quarterback John Carey. We now tune in with his father, Michael Carey."

Ironically enough considering Joan and Bruce had spoken about the man just days before, Michael appeared on screen with another reporter.

"This is really unacceptable," Michael practically growled, "Both students- both girls- had no right. That article should never have been printed and that student should never have called out my son."

Lindsey blinked, snapping her dropped jaw shut and blinking a few more times. Did people really care so much about what went in a high school newspaper? Even if it did demolish the name of an undefeated team, Lindsey would never have guessed the Gotham news channels would turn to a story like this.

"They said your name!" Joan shouted, startling Lindsey out of her thoughts. "Sons of b-"

"Beached whales," Shawn finished for her, nodding toward Abby. Lindsey snorted. The man was too awkward.

"That doesn't matter," Joan snapped, "They had no right to call those girls out like that!"

"They called John out," Lindsey noted. Joan's glare flicked to her oldest daughter, "Because you targeted him in your article. What's next? They'll reveal you were the dumb student in the parking lot the other night?"

"Hey," Lindsey protested, "How was I supposed to know two idiots would be waiting for me? Just don't chew out Houser. He's stupid. He doesn't know what to do when the school gets any publicity."

Joan threw her hand up in the air in defeat, "Fine. You just be prepared to handle this. Unbelievable, those mother f-"

"Frankenstein," Shawn once again interrupted for the sake of virgin ears, "Scared the hell out of me as a kid."

Lindsey chuckled and turned her attention back to the TV. While she did feel accomplished in having brought the controversy of the team to attention, she wasn't exactly comfortable with the publicity the story was gaining.

Like a real reporter, Lindsey Brooks had just pissed off a shit load of people.

* * *

Well...so sorry if you're just rereading the whole story, but for those of you who have read the later chapters before they were deleted, I'd still appreciate reviews. That goes for all readers. Even if you just want to say "Hi" or "You suck." I'll either say hello back or throw an annoying object at you (aka my brother).


	3. Chapter 3: Killer Party

**Chapter Three: Killer Party**

"Bitch."

"Shouldn't she be at South by now?"

"What? Here to ruin the swimming team next?"

By that Thursday, Lindsey was quite used to the comments against her. They didn't faze her any longer. She had just as many supporters as she did haters. Among them, Monica DuPriest had decided Lindsey was her new best friend or something like it. Lindsey was at least on her good side, especially that day when a favor was asked.

"Do you know Dominic Randolph?" Monica asked her during lunch. Usually Lindsey would work with the rest of the staff through lunch on the next edition, but Mr. Riley felt she needed a break.

To Monica's question, Lindsey nodded, "He's the one John made switch tests. Why?"

"He's…really hurt. I didn't mention his name when they reported the story, but he got in some trouble here and at home for doing what he did. And I feel like it's my fault."

'Well it is,' Lindsey thought sardonically. "What are you asking me to do?"

"Could you talk to him? He's avoiding me and I just want to know how he's doing?"

Lindsey shook her head and stood up from the table, "I never see him during the day. And I have to leave right after school to pick my sister up. Claire might be able to do it. They both do announcements."

She knew she should feel bad for being cold toward Monica, but Lindsey couldn't help but partially blame her for letting the story get so out of control. It seemed as if the news stations had nothing else to report besides the "North Gotham Scandal."

Not all of the bitterness was directed to Monica though. Joan and Shawn had left for London on Wednesday. Lindsey decided to just have the aforementioned adults check on them in the mornings and evenings. She did not want to stay with Bruce and be uncomfortable.

"Brooks!"

As she was walking to her last class of the day, Nick caught up with her.

"You're coming tomorrow, right?" he asked. Lindsey laughed, "You think it's safe for me to?"

"Hell no," Nick answered loudly, startling a few underclassmen around them, "But if you and Monica both show up, it could be pretty interesting. I think she's higher on Johnny's shit list than you are now."

'Abby's spending the night at Chloe's Friday night…this could work out,' she thought to herself. She smiled at Nick, "I'll be there. I'll bring Monica."

"Sweet," Nick yelped and ran off to where Claire DeFranc and Aubrey Sanders were sitting. Claire was the valedictorian of the senior class, or at least would be by the end of the year if Dominic Randolph didn't catch up to her. Rumor had it she had a full scholarship to Princeton. She was best friends with Aubrey Sanders, the sickeningly sweet super Catholic girl who was unfortunate enough to catch the eyes of both Nick and John.

Lindsey rolled her eyes. She had the feeling Claire and Aubrey would be the next victims of Nick's cocktail special.

"Don't look now," Kelsey half whispered as Lindsey sat down next to her in their economy class, "The Mafia's giving you the group stink eye."

Lindsey giggled. Angela Benedetti was sure enough sitting with her clique in the back corner of the room glaring a hole through her head. Lindsey, Kelsey, and quite a large amount of the student population named Angela and her group The Mafia in seventh grade when Nick moved into town. He made the comment that Angela's last name made her sound like the daughter of a mob boss.

Angela, being John's girlfriend, would now and forever hold a vendetta against Lindsey. The latter wasn't too upset. She never liked Angela.

Aubrey walked into class soon after, taking her seat on the other side of Lindsey. The two exchanged smiles as usual. They weren't great friends, but they were friendly to each other. Then again, Aubrey would be friendly to rock that fell on her head.

On the same page of odd relationships, Aubrey developed a strange sort of friendship with Ian Gregor. Ian was the school's main "emo," wearing black all the time, looking angry 24/7, and was just overall very unpleasant. Aubrey was the only one outside his group to speak cordially with him. Lindsey remembered Aubrey even asked Ian to go with her to Nick's party. She doubted that would actually happen, though.

After economy, Lindsey managed to catch up with Monica.

"Hey. You know-"

Monica cut her off, "I know what you're going to say and I think it's a great idea!"

"…Go to Nick's party?"

"Yes! Imagine John's face…" Monica trailed off, clearly savoring the image of a red faced John charging at them, sleeves rolled up with the vein popping out of his forehead. Lindsey laughed, "So we'll meet up there?"

"Definitely."

* * *

"Do you have any plans for tomorrow night?"

Lindsey cursed. Bruce had taken it upon himself to check on the girls that night. She told him about Abby spending the night with Chloe and hoped he would leave it at that.

"Well," she began, "There's this party my friend Nick's having."

Bruce's eyebrows shot up, vaguely reminding Lindsey of her own mother, "What kind?"

"What do you mean?"

"Pin the tail on the donkey birthday party or get drunk and get syphilis and/or pregnant party?"

Lindsey wanted to point and laugh at him, but knew that wasn't the right approach, "It's not a birthday party or anything. It's just a fun hang out type party."

She added after remembering what Nick told her earlier in the week, "It's pretty exclusive, meaning not too huge."

"Well, since you put it that way, I'm thinking along the lines of no."

"Bruce, please!" Reasoning hadn't worked, so why not resort to begging?

"I promise you I will not get drunk, syphilis, or pregnant," she pleaded, "Hey, I'll even do that thing my mom taught me. You know, I'll take my beer can- if I'm offered one- to the bathroom with me, dump it down the drain and refill it with water."

"I'm still saying no, Lindsey," Bruce answered. Lindsey groaned and trudged back to her room. She didn't need his permission. She was going anyway.

* * *

"Welcome ladies," Nick announced with a flourish as Lindsey and Monica arrived at the door, "Come in. Come in. I'll get you some drinks."

Monica made a gagging gesture to Lindsey when Nick left, sending Lindsey in a fit of giggles.

Aubrey and Claire, water bottles in hand, approached the girls.

"We're glad you're here," Claire shouted over the loud music, "It's pretty much us, Nick, the football team, the dance team, the cheerleaders, a bunch of freshman girls, and Nick's neighbors."

"Ian should be coming, "Aubrey added, "He said he'd meet me."

Monica snorted, "This isn't really his crowd, hun."

Angela suddenly shouted from the doorway to the kitchen, "What are they doing here? Nick!"

Lindsey and Monica looked at each other and shouted, "Yes!"

Aubrey looked confused, "You want people to be mad at you?"

Claire shook her head, "They like ruffling their feathers. I must admit it is pretty entertaining."

Aubrey still looked confused, but before anyone could elaborate, John stepped between the girls to face Lindsey and Monica.

"This is a private party," he said slowly, "You're. Not. Invited!"

Nick soon joined them with two cokes in hand, "Ah, John leave them be. I still like them. Ladies, I had a feeling you wouldn't like the alternatives so here you go."

John slugged Nick in the shoulder before returning to his group. Nick winked at the girls before turning his attention to Claire and Aubrey. Lindsey and Monica moved to sit down on the couch.

"You know this is spiked too, right?" Monica asked. Lindsey nodded, "Never doubted it."

Lindsey noticed Monica staring over her shoulder. In the back corner, Dominic Randolph was having a very one-sided conversation with Ian Gregor. Lindsey smiled, "Go talk to him. I know you want to."

Monica nodded vigorously. As she stood up and started making her way over, Lindsey shouted, "And tell Ian to save Aubrey."

Little did she know how serious that statement would turn out to be.

The music was cut off, causing mass confusion. Nick tried to shove his way through to the front of the crowd. Lindsey dared to stand up from her seat on the couch and found herself face to face with a gun hoarding man in a clown mask.

She screamed, but it was lost in the wave of other girls' cries. Lindsey noticed more men in clown masks around her and more coming in through the doors and down the stairs, caging the partygoers in.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Nick shouted as the men had quieted down the crowd.

A sinister cackled was heard from the staircase. Another clown face man strutted down the stairs, but unlike the rest, he wasn't in a mask. He was wearing makeup. Lindsey's eyes widened as she recognized the cheek slit scarred smile on his face.

"The Joker," she whispered to herself. He held his arms out as he came to hover over Nick, "Great party, kid. Let's move it up a level to killer!"

All at once, the clown men wielding guns fired. Others went after the girls. Lindsey was knocked to the ground by one who threw a screaming Claire on the couch.

Barely registering what she was doing. Lindsey kicked the man in the back of the knee. He was caught off guard and came rushing to the ground, snapping his neck on the coffee table.

Lindsey gagged and grabbed Claire's hand, racing to the back door. She lost her grip on Claire as she was roughly yanked outside in the back yard. She screamed as she saw the Joker had her arm in a vice grip.

"It looks like you killed one of my men, little girl," he said casually, as if talking about the weather, "How do you think I should take that?"

"Like a damn man, shitwad!" Monica shouted, running outside and kicking Joker between the legs. She pried Lindsey away, but the girls barely made it a few steps to the gates before Joker grabbed them by the hair.

"I really don't like people without manners," he taunted, pulling Lindsey closer so her back was pressed against his chest and tightening his grip on Monica, "But I do like your feistiness. I could have fun with you two."

"Or I could have fun with you," a raspy voice called out before the Joker was knocked away from the girls. Lindsey would've laughed at the other man's statement had the situation not been so dangerous. The girls hardly took the time to take in the Batman's form before bolting for the gate. They burst through, Lindsey being a faster runner was sprinting a few paces ahead of Monica.

She heard police sirens in the distance, and soon saw the lights of multiple police cars approaching. As soon as she was close enough to one of the cars, she collapsed.

Lindsey put her hands over her eyes, trying desperately to block out to Joker's face in her head and his voice in her ears. It was all she could see and hear. She couldn't even hear the officers trying to figure out who was dead and who was alive. She didn't even know if she really saved Claire or if Monica was still behind her.

The last question was answered when the Joker pulled her up to her feet by her throat. Lindsey tried to scream, but he held a knife in front of her face. Any attempts to call out turned to whimpers.

"Well, now that's more like it. A wise man once told me it's easier to resist in the beginning than the end. If you would listen to your superiors you would've saved a lot of heartbreak. Now, let's…" Joker trailed off, emitting a long, dramatic sigh before dropping Lindsey back to the ground. She was promptly pulled up to her feet and put in the nearby police car.

"Stay there," the Batman ordered. Lindsey didn't need to be told twice. The Joker was standing in front of Batman, looking extremely bored as the latter ordered an approaching officer to drive Lindsey out of the lot.

"Ok…ok," the young officer stammered as he started the car, "W-where do you live?"

Lindsey told him her address and looked out her window of the passenger side, shocked to see that both men were gone.

"Did that really happen?" she asked, mainly to herself. The officer replied, "Yeah. Yeah it did."


	4. Chapter 4: Downtime

**Chapter Four: Downtime**

"So many died…it'd be easier to list off the names of those who survived."

Lindsey held her head in her hands. Her elbows were resting on her knees, which were pulled up to her chest as she sat huddled on her bed. Bruce and Mrs. DeFranc were talking outside her door.

"Fortunately she was right," Bruce's voice rang out, "About the party being relatively small compared to some of the kid's other blowouts."

Mrs. DeFranc added, "Of course. Nick Ramie usually has the whole football team, dance team, and more there. Only about five of the boys and four of the dancers were there. A few neighbors of Nick's…so many underclassmen, though. Those that are alive are hospitalized."

"What are their names?" Bruce asked.

"Let's see…Nick's alive, John Carey, Angela Benedetti, Dominic Randolph, that sweet girl Aubrey and her friend Ian are alive, Monica DuPriest, and of course Claire and Lindsey."

Lindsey looked up in horror. "That's all?" she whispered to herself. Mrs. DeFranc continued, "Claire's quite shaken. I doubt she'll be ready to go to school on Monday. I'm rather appalled that principal of theirs hasn't said anything."

Bruce snorted, oddly enough at the same time as Lindsey, "This is the principal that did nothing about a drug issue until one of his students' articles made the news. And the one who let security camera footage go public. Joan's never liked the man either."

"Rachel," Lindsey called out. Mrs. DeFranc poked her head in through the doorway. Bruce stared at the younger girl, making her go slightly red in the face.

"Rachel _Jenson_," she elaborated, "I think she was there too."

Mrs. DeFranc looked back at Bruce, who snapped out of some reverie was entranced in and pulled Lindsey's desk chair next to the bed.

"The…clown men fled after the police showed up," he began softly, "All but one. The officers on the scene managed to evacuate most of the survivors, but there was an explosion. The remaining one set the house on fire."

"So anyone who was living after the people Joyce mentioned got out…" she was unable to even finish that thought, "Oh my god! I should've been there!"

"You were there," Bruce reprimanded, "But you shouldn't have been."

"No, it's not that," she choked out, "I- the Batman. He put in one of the cars and made of the other officers drive me home before any fire started."

Bruce nodded, "Remind me to thank him."

Joyce sat on the edge of the bed, taking Lindsey's hand in hers, "Claire told me you helped save her. Thank you."

Lindsey felt a sob forming and threw her arms around the older woman's neck, "Joyce…I just can't believe it!"

Bruce stood up and briefly left the two sobbing women. When he returned, he was armed with tissue boxes for them and one for himself. He hated seeing anything female cry.

* * *

Lindsey recited her account of the Joker attack far too many times than she cared to. First, she had to explain it to Bruce, then to her mother, then to an officer she never got the name of, then to Lt. Gordon. The last one was the only one who offered any helpful feedback.

"Only two of you had any real contact with the Joker," he referred to the surviving group, "And that's yourself and Monica DuPriest."

"Does that mean something?" Lindsey asked distractedly, as if she hadn't even understood any of what Gordon was saying as words. He sighed, "Well, he's still on the loose, and he knows the two of you by face. That's all he'll need. Not to mention the fact that the two of you have been shown on the news a few times from the steroid story."

He continued after receiving a blank stare, "We've arranged to have you and your sister stay with Mr. Wayne until your parents return from England."

"Mother and Shawn, sir."

Gordon's brow quirked as he corrected himself, "Until your mother and Mr. Partridge return home. Do you understand?"

Lindsey nodded, a resentful smile forming on her face, "Sure. This works out perfect in fact. We'll be safe until we get the call from mom that Shawn managed weasel her into moving to London with him."

Gordon remained silent. Lindsey couldn't blame him. She wouldn't know what to say either.

"Can I go now?" she asked sweetly. Gordon pursed his lips and motioned for the door with a nod.

* * *

"You know I could just order the most expensive thing here and get the biggest dessert that I won't even finish."

Bruce had been waiting for Lindsey to finish up her talk with Gordon and decided to take her out for lunch. She suspected he felt bad for making her go to Gordon and re-explain the party. It put her in a terrible mood.

"You could do that," he replied with a smirk as he handed her a menu. Only then did she realize that unlike with Shawn when he took her out for their first and only "quality bonding time" money was not an issue.

"That's the thing about teenagers," he stated casually, "Your eyes are bigger than your stomachs."

Lindsey shook her head, "Not true. I would so finish the dessert."

Bruce chuckled, "Even after you inhaled the most expensive food item here?"

"Of course."

He just snorted, "Alright. We both know I could swing it."

Lindsey leaned back in her chair and smiled deviously, "Are you placing a bet?"

"You're a meat eater now, right?" he asked, knowing Joan rarely ever ate meat with the exception of the occasional chicken and that Lindsey had her brief vegan kick at age fourteen. Lindsey just nodded. Bruce laid his menu in front of her and pointed to one of the items.

"That's just teriyaki chicken and it's not even the most expensive," she told him after reading his selection.

"Remember last time I took you, Abby, and your mother here and you went on a tirade about how you hated 'goop?' This is the biggest without goop."

Lindsey laughed. Everyone who knew her knew how much she hated any sort of sauce, be it catsup, mustard, ranch, mayo, or any other kind of dressing or special restaurant sauce.

"Ok," she agreed, "There's my lunch. Dessert?"

"I don't want you to get sick or rot your teeth-"

Lindsey scoffed, "I'm seventeen!"

"You can still get cavities. So let's see," he scanned the dessert menu for a moment before announcing his choice, "The warm apple crisp."

"And ironically enough it probably has the most sugar of them all."

Bruce shrugged, "It's got apples."

"Oh whatever. What about the tiramisu?" she offered. Bruce laughed, "You think you can handle it?"

"It's got strawberries," she chided. He rolled his eyes, "Only if you order the goblet of strawberries to go with it."

Lindsey glared at him, "Well you're the one paying so let's go for it."

As luck would have it, she was indeed stuffed after finishing her very large plate of teriyaki chicken and steamed rice along with four French fries Bruce tossed on her plate.

"Ugh," she groaned, slouching in her chair and patting her stomach, "Gotta push thing in before someone thinks I'm pregnant."

Bruce sat across the table smirking at her. She sighed dramatically and told him, "Fine. You were right."

He reached in his jacket pocket for his wallet and pulled out two twenty-dollar bills. He held them up for her to see, "Yours if you finish the tiramisu and strawberries."

Lindsey cringed and said in a forced tone, "Half of the tiramisu and all of the strawberries? You don't want me to get sick or get cavities, remember?"

"Seemed like you got over it, but deal."

Bruce ordered the strawberries and tiramisu for the both of them. Lindsey finished the fruit first then started working on the real dessert.

"Stay on your side," she snapped as Bruce's spoon went over the dividing line she made with the ground chocolate.

"You're eating too slow. All the good stuff's on your side."

"Deal with it!"

Both to spite him and to give her already overstuffed stomach time to digest and prepare, she started taking slower and slower bites and gradually took more time between each taste. Finally, just the sight of the tiramisu made her feel ill.

"I'm done," she announced, tossing her spoon in the rest of the dessert, which was plentiful on her half of the platter. At Bruce's smirk, she defended, "Come on! I finished the strawberries and I'll bet a hell a lot more than you thought I would!"

He chuckled and slid the money across the table, "Alright."

Lindsey stashed her reward and propped her elbows on the table, "It's your turn next time, you know."

* * *

"In all seriousness, you're kind of grounded," Bruce said as he helped Lindsey and Abby unpack at his 'mammoth' penthouse.

Abby pointed at her sister, "Ha, ha!"

"Shh," Lindsey glared and the younger girl, "And get your shoes off my bed!"

"You're not mom!" Abby protested, kicking her feet on the comforter. Lindsey grabbed a shoe off Abby's foot and tossed it across the room. Abby sat up and pouted, "Hey!"

"Well, get off!"

"Girls," Bruce attempted to defuse the argument, but was unfortunately not quite experienced enough.

"Abby, just go unpack in your room," Lindsey ordered, repeating her previous action with the other shoe.

"I can't do it by myself!"

"Someone will help you."

"But Bruce is helping you!"

"Just go!"

"No!

"Girls!" Bruce shouted, startling the sisters, "Abby, you're already unpacked. And Lindsey…your phone's ringing."

"Oh, shit," Lindsey cursed, irritated that she never seemed to be the one to hear her phone go off. Abby gasped, "You owe Mom a dollar."

"Mom's in London. I don't owe her anything. Hello?"

"You owe her a dollar when she gets back."

"Abby!" Lindsey snapped again before saying into her cell, "Hi…Angela?"

"I'm gonna go call her now!" Abby announced, hopping off the bed and running for the cordless phone on Lindsey's desk. Lindsey held out a restraining arm and pushed the smaller girl back on the bed.

Bruce had the decency to leave the girls, sensing an issue only they could sort out.

Lindsey clamped a hand over Abby's mouth so she could hear what Angela was trying to say.

"…bitch…After everything that's happened you think it's ok to stuff your face with Bruce Wayne just so you can get a-"

Lindsey snapped her phone shut before she could hear the rest. She knew the just of it.

Abby seemed to notice Lindsey's dramatic change in her mood for she stopped screaming and acting obnoxious. Lindsey groaned loudly and flopped on her bed, the guilt of leaving the party when she should've been helping people growing heavier each second.


	5. Chapter 5: Monday

**Chapter Five: Monday**

That Monday, Principle Houser did as much as organize a student body assembly to commemorate the North Gotham High students who lost their lives via the Joker attack. The local news station was permitted to film the ceremony, but shut off the cameras when the families entered. Most if not all of the students left the gymnasium in tears.

Lindsey and Kelsey decided to stop at their counselors' offices before fourth period. They knew the rest of the news staff would not be handling Rachel Jenson's death well, especially Corey.

Kelsey was able to see her counselor fairly quickly, but Lindsey had to wait in the guidance office until her counselor, Mrs. Jacobs, was free. She had the most students of all the other counselors assigned to her.

Lindsey fidgeted in her chair, very uncomfortable being stuck in the middle of other sobbing classmates. She observed a group of football players, ones who weren't at the party, outside the office. Their puffy red eyes indicated they were crying.

'So they're human after all,' she thought to herself.

Next door to the guidance office, Lindsey's attention was drawn through the glass doors to the main offices. The front door had swung open and Mrs. DeFranc stumbled in. Her voice was somewhat muffled, but everyone could hear that the normally calm, collected mother was in hysterics.

"Dead!" Lindsey flinched as she heard the one audible word fly from the woman's mouth. A few teachers had flocked to her side, trying to calm her down.

"No!" she shouted, "Claire! My baby!"

Lindsey's eyes widened and her jaw started to drop. Was Claire dead?

Another student had opened the office door to hear Mrs. DeFranc more clearly. Her shouts echoed into the hallway.

"In her room…she was suffocated! He killed her!"

One of the school's security guards pulled out his two-way radio and ordered, "Send some men to the DeFranc residence ASAP."

"No," Lindsey whispered to herself, staring straight ahead of herself but seeing nothing but the quickly narrowing walls, "Claire."

An office aid flipped on the TV that was on the table. According to the clock it was time for announcements. Instead of one of the radio staff starting them off, Nick Ramie was standing in the media equipment room.

"Greetings children," a voice announced, one that was not Nick's. Lindsey knew immediately whose it was. So did everyone else in the guidance office it seemed. They all stood from their seats, temporarily blocking Lindsey from the screen until she stood up on her chair.

"I'm here to teach all you little freeloading maggots one of life's very valuable lessons," the Joker's voice continued off screen, "We'll use this _willing_ volunteer as an example."

One of his men, clad in a suit and clown mask as usual, entered from the right and punched Nick in the stomach, causing gasps and terrified shouts in the room. Lindsey felt as if her airways were closing as she watched in shock and horror. Instead the walls of the open room closing around her, she felt like she was drowning.

"I'm sure all of these brilliant certified educators and your loving parents have taught you little darlings that sharing is good," Joker narrated as his man continued beating Nick, "But when you go through your life trying to please others, say with alcohol, drugs, and _killer_ celebrations like this charming young man, other innocent people tend to get hurt by your recklessness." He paused, emitting a sinister chuckle as Nick's bruised face was shown.

Lindsey clamped a hand over her mouth and screamed as the clown faced man snapped Nick's neck. The screen went black and the rest of the students in the office started running around, huddling together as if they would be next.

Lindsey sat back down in her seat, tangling her hands in her hair and holding her head with her jaw dropped. No matter how hard she tried she could not shake away the image of Nick's beaten face and the look right after he was finished off. Nick Ramie couldn't be dead. There was no one on the earth more alive than Nick Ramie. Or Claire DeFranc for that matter!

It wasn't until Monica yanked her to her feet that she realized all students were being sent home.

"Mr. Riley broke a window and got inside," Monica informed her, "But both of them were gone. Houser's got the police coming. They think Joker may still be in the building."

"That's not the only problem," a teary Angela Benedetti snapped, falling into step on the other side of Lindsey, "He killed Claire and Nick! Both of them survived the attack. He's going to come after us now, just so you know!"

"I don't like it when you say things, just so you know!" Monica retorted. Lindsey shushed them both as they arrived in the parking lot, "Not helping. Where's Kelsey?"

Monica looked around the crowd of students, "I'm gonna go find Dominic. I'll be back."

Before Lindsey could search for her friend, Angela stepped in front of her.

"Look, I didn't come up with that idea," she explained, "The rest of the dance team girls are all but getting a restraining order against me! They think this is like Final Destination where everyone who survived the thing dies but like one! And I'm personally going to make sure that one is me!"

Lindsey brushed her aside and made her way to her car. There was only so much she could take from Angela Benedetti.

* * *

"So where are you at exactly?" Bruce asked after Lindsey called him. She somehow found herself back at Shawn's condo.

"Well, I'm at home…"

"Yours?"

"Yeah."

She heard him sigh exasperatedly before asking, "And I take it you didn't pick up your sister."

Lindsey shrugged, "They didn't get let out."

"You didn't check?"

"They didn't get let out," she repeated, slower and louder. "You don't know that," Bruce answered in the same tone.

"Well sorry," she yelled into the phone, "Forgive me for being a little shaken from watching someone I know be killed on TV!"

"Lindsey-"

"Bruce I'm scared, ok? Claire and Nick, they were two who survived the attack! What if the Joker comes after Aubrey, or Dominic, or Monica, or any of them? Or their families...Abby and me...and Alfred and you...and my mom..."

Lindsey squeezed her eyes shut to keep from crying as she added, "I didn't pick Abby up because of that. I didn't want her to be caught if I saw him again."

"Lindsey," Bruce calmed himself to keep her sane, "Nothing's going to happen to you. I will make sure of it."

Lindsey just scoffed, "Oh what are you Batman? What can you do?"

"Alright, no, but I am your guardian for two weeks. It's my job to keep you safe now."

She rolled her eyes and remarked before hanging up, "Well, you're doing so great already."

She set her phone down on the counter and threw herself on the couch, resorting to watching old movies in an attempt to ease herself.

* * *

When Bruce and Alfred picked Lindsey up after retrieving Abby, Bruce made her go back to Lt. Gordon. Needless to say, she was rather irritated.

"He was narrating as one of his groupies killed Nick. What else do you want me to say?"

Gordon's elbows were resting on the table as he massaged his temples, "It would be so much more helpful if you wouldn't be so vague about everything. There really is no reason for this attitude."

"I don't have an attitude," Lindsey snapped. Gordon's brow shot up, "Uh-huh. Back on topic: What exactly did the Joker say?"

"I don't remember."

"Yes you do. You're trying to be difficult," his demeanor changed from the calm mediator to a mean dad interrogator, "Tell me what exactly the Joker said. I want to hear it from you."

Lindsey stared at him, still not saying anything. Gordon leaned back in his chair, "You're not in trouble, but failure to comply can get you in some."

"Is that a threat?"

"What did he say?"

Lindsey sighed, tossing him one more glare before saying hurriedly, "He said something about how going through life trying to please others leads to innocent people being hurt. He was using Nick as an example and was pretty sarcastic through the whole thing. Good enough for you?"

Gordon nodded and in the same manner her did in their first meeting waved her away toward the door.

* * *

"Just so you know," Lindsey yelled to Bruce from her room after Alfred brought her back to the penthouse, "Gordon really doesn't need anything from me after getting the story from people who were actually at the scene."

"He does when you're the only witness he'll be getting that actually knew the victim," he shouted back.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, "He didn't ask me about Claire and I knew her. Besides Nick knew everybody and their damn mother."

"They don't know if Claire's death was caused by the Joker or his followers as well," Bruce answered, disregarding the second half of her statement.

"It was," Lindsey mumbled to herself, lying on her bed next to Abby who had fallen asleep while watching the portable DVD player they had found in Lindsey's nightstand drawer. How she managed to sleep through her big sister's shouts Lindsey would never understand.

Bruce was correct in the fact that the cause of Claire's death was still unclear, but Lindsey had a gut instinct that it was indeed caused by the same man who killed Nick. She was also sure that Claire and Nick deaths were not the end of his new run.

* * *

Here's the authoresque dilemma here; I know that this is a reread for a lot of of you, but I am making some tweaks as I go. I still would appreciate reviews just so I know that there is still some interest in the story. Sure I could go and check to see how many hits I'm getting, but it makes my life and my updating speedier (wink wink) if I get some feedback even just saying, "Good" or "Bad" or "Terrible" or "WTF?"


	6. Chapter 6: Not Done Yet

**Chapter Six: Not Done Yet**

'Bruce is going to go apeshit,' Lindsey mused as she, Monica, and Dominic waited after school at the lakeside boat docks owned by Angela's father. They had each gotten a text from John saying they needed to talk.

Soon enough, Aubrey and Ian arrived.

"Hey guys," Aubrey greeted sweetly, "Is John here yet?"

"And is there any point to this?" Ian added angrily. Lindsey reframed from smirking at the polar opposite pair. Aubrey was short, blond, sunny, sweet, and happy while Ian was tall, wore all black, and had a scowl permanently etched on his face. She had to wonder how exactly Aubrey was able to befriend him.

"Yes, Gregor, there is a point to this," John sneered as he and Angela approached the group.

Monica folded her arms and leaned against a crate behind her, "Can we get to it?"

John glared at her before speaking again, "Obviously, something freaky is going on-"

"Not you too," Monica groaned, "Did Barbie brainwash you into thinking the Joker was going to come after each one of us who survived his attack at Nick's?"

Angela spat out, "It's too big of a coincidence to pass off as nothing. How about you open your eyes instead of your mouth for once?"

"Ok," Monica retorted with a fake smile in a mock cheery tone of voice, "Right after you open your ears instead of your legs for once. We are not going to be picked off by the clowns."

John pushed Angela back before she could charge at Monica. "You can catfight later," he hissed, "Right now, we need to figure out how to not be killed."

Ian grunted, "By being out here at sunset? Great thinking jockstrap."

Aubrey put a hand on Ian's arm and said calmly, "John, I understand, but what can we do? All we're doing now is fighting."

Ian glared at John, who glared right back, and announced, "Exactly. I'm leaving." He pivoted on his heel and trudged back toward his car. Aubrey sent the others an apologetic look before running after him.

Lindsey watched as John's anger turned to relief. He almost smiled as he told them, "Ok…ok, that's good. Those two will be next and we'll have more time-"

"What is wrong with you?" Monica shouted. Lindsey thought about trying to calm her, but had the feeling the effort would be futile. To her left, Dominic was rocking back and forth, looking as if he were about to cry.

She glanced over to where Monica, John, and Angela were arguing and directed her attention back to the quiet boy. She gently placed her hand over his, "Dominic?"

"I can't die like this," he choked out, "I can't…I…I have a scholarship to Harvard law…to be killed like Claire and Nick…that's, it's just the worst way to go!"

Lindsey stared up at Monica long enough for her to feel eyes on her and turn away from the other two. Lindsey nodded toward Dominic, who was nearing his breaking point.

John and Angela quieted as Monica approached Dominic. Before she could try to say any soothing words, he jumped up to his feet, pulling a gun out of his pocket.

Lindsey scampered backwards until she hit another crate. Angela tried to cling to John but he shoved her aside. She went to stand next to Lindsey instead.

"Dom," Monica started, "Why do you have a gun?"

Dominic by now was hyperventilating, "I can't…Monica, I can't let him take my life…I gotta do it before he does."

"Give me the gun, man," John ordered in a surprisingly soft and shaking tone. Dominic laughed nervously as he cocked the gun.

"Oh my God," Angela squeaked. After watching Monica and John try to wrestle the gun out of Dominic's hands for a few seconds longer, Lindsey decided she could no longer stand and wait to see if he would indeed shoot himself. She made a quick excuse to Angela before running off to where she parked her car.

Almost as soon as her blue Bug was in sight, Lindsey felt a harsh tug at her arm. A hand clamped over her mouth and was pulled back against a sturdy wall of chest.

"You won't want to miss this, little one," a scratchy male voice hissed in her ear, which Lindsey immediately recognized once again as the Joker's.

He easily yanked her petite frame roughly to the side so that Ian and Aubrey were in her line of sight. They were standing by a red car she assumed was Aubrey's. Ian was leaning against the hood and Aubrey was standing in front of him to the side of the car.

Before she knew it, Lindsey was watching as a black Sedan came speeding down the road and pinned Aubrey against her car. The Joker cackled and let Lindsey go as she screamed. He strutted over to Ian, who was being restrained by the man who drove the assaulting car.

Unable to watch this scene as well, Lindsey turned to go warn the rest of the group but froze at the sound of a gunshot.

Did it come from the Joker or Dominic?

She raced back to the docks, only to find a weeping Dominic with Monica rubbing his back, Angela squatting next to Monica, and John watching with a blank stare.

"Guys," Lindsey shouted, "It's Aubrey! And Ian! They're here!"

John's eyes narrowed in confusion, but Monica seemed to understand what Lindsey was saying. She reached up and shoved John, "They're being attacked! Go help!"

"Why can't you…"

"Damn it, John! Go!"

John jogged back to the scene with Lindsey, but they were apparently too late. Aubrey was lying limp and lifeless on the ground. Lindsey looked down the road to see the black Sedan already driving off in the distance. Why hadn't the Batman come? Didn't he usually arrive at these types of crime scenes at exactly the right time?

John reached down and turned Ian on his back from his face down position on the road. He had been shot in the chest.

Lindsey began weeping, but John remained stoic. Both could only stare at the pair's gray, lifeless, unrecognizable forms even after only minutes of death. Aubrey's zombie like state made Lindsey yearn for the sunny sometimes annoyingly peppy Catholic girl and Ian's frightened, vulnerable face haunted her.

"Do you believe me now?" John asked quietly after a minute of tense silence. Lindsey nodded frantically. She wouldn't bother telling him she never did doubt his theory.

"I gotta go," she sobbed, "I'll get Gordon…we won't be getting reception out here."

John's eyes never left the alien versions of Ian and Aubrey as he nodded once to acknowledge that he heard her.

Lindsey stumbled back to her car and shakily started it. She pulled out and drove down in the opposite direction as the Sedan, which was driving toward the Narrows.

As she turned the corner to drive down the alleyway she used as a shortcut to the docks, she noticed a dark figure outlined by the sunset near the entrance. She stopped the car and approached the man. Sure enough, she was face to face with the Batman.

"Where were you?" she asked. When she got no response, she yelled, "Where the hell were you? Two people… two more people are dead! He killed them! You weren't there again!"

He remained unfazed by her tantrum and instead reached out to take her arms. She tried to push him away, but he managed to get her in a strong hold. Finding efforts futile, Lindsey stopped trying to fight him off and sobbed into his hard chest, "They're dead…he killed two more of us…oh God I could be next! I could be next."

"No, you won't" he answered strongly in his gravelly voice and held her out at arm's length, "I'll make sure of it."

Lindsey immediately had a recollection of what Bruce had promised her along those same lines but shook the feeling off. He anger at the proclaimed Dark Knight took precedence over familiarity toward him.

"Like you made sure of Aubrey and Ian's safety? Or Claire? Or Nick? You're just a man in a cape and armor! What the hell can you do?"

He disregarded her outburst and motioned toward her car, "Go home."

Lindsey wanted so much to continue telling him off, but felt the need to do just as he ordered. Not before informing Gordon, of course.

* * *

"Bruce you should've seen it," Lindsey said through tears when Bruce came back home and requested her side of the story he heard from Gordon, "The car…it just smashed her. He made me watch it!"

"Joker?" he asked softly, giving her shaking hands a gentle squeeze. Lindsey nodded, "I heard a gunshot when I went to get the others. I thought he'd be there, but he wasn't."

"Who?"

"Batman…I don't know, I just…I heard the gunshot and hoped…it sounds so stupid now," she reprimanded herself.

Bruce allowed her to cry on his shoulder, "It doesn't. It was beyond your control."

"The rest of them got home safe though, right?" she asked. He moved her so he could look her in the eyes, "Yes. That's the good news."

Lindsey sighed and looked down at the ground, "The bad news?"

"Principal Houser called," he started, "You and the rest of them have been declared a threat to other students."

"So I'm expelled?" Lindsey asked loudly, "How can he do this? Why can't he just close the school for a week or something? A student was murdered there! It's not our fault!"

Bruce silently allowed her to continue, not wanting to further upset her. She took a few deep breaths before asking, "What…what did you say when he told you?"

"I called your mother. She was outraged."

"What did _you _say?" she repeated gravely, "Anything?"

"Lindsey, there was nothing-"

"Just go," she whispered barely loud enough for him to hear. The quiet command was effective, though. He explained that he and Alfred would be out for an hour or two and that Abby should be asleep. She made no notion to show she heard him.

* * *

A round of thunder woke Lindsey up that night. The clock on her nightstand read 2:00 in the morning. She looked to her doorway, fully prepared for Abby to come sprinting in. She was deathly afraid of thunderstorms.

When her sister didn't show up, Lindsey grew concerned and padded into Abby's room.

"Oh shit," she whispered when she was greeted with a very messy but empty room. She ran into the neighboring rooms, checked the bathrooms, and her own room. In a panic she began to check the cabinets and closets.

"Abby?"

She shouted her name in each section of the penthouse, but to no avail. She then sprinted into the only room she hadn't checked, Bruce's room

"Abby? Please, come on say something," she begged, desperately choking back tears. How could she lose her sister in a supposed safe place?

A few whimpers brought the nearly hyperventilating girl's attention underneath the bed. Sure enough, she found a pair of teary nine-year-old eyes.

"Oh my God, Ab. You scared me! What are you doing?"

Abby's answer came in a rushed whisper, "Hiding from the clown people."

"Clown people?" Lindsey repeated skeptically. This wouldn't be the first little charade Abby pulled on her.

The sound of breaking glass broke her train of thought. She told Abby to stay in the room and lock the door when she left. She tip toed out into the hallway and continued into the kitchen. Seeing no sign of intruders, she quickly pulled a knife from the drawer.

Lindsey ducked behind the counter when she heard approaching footsteps. Two male voices spoke to each other in hushed murmurs she couldn't fully comprehend as actual words.

She waited until she heard them pass her by before letting out a silent, shaking breath. Looking straight forward, she cringed and ducked further to the ground when she saw the mirror right in front of her.

Unfortunately, the men noticed it as well. One had come around on each side of the island and closed her in. Lindsey sprang to her feet and tried to push past the one nearest to the doorway, but he managed to catch her arm in a vice grip. She yelped and pushed the knife into his hand.

The man gasped in pain and released her. Lindsey immediately sprinted out of the kitchen, knowing the other one was right on her heals. She made a beeline for the living room and swung the door behind her, resulting in the satisfying sound of wood hitting the body behind her.

Using her borrowed time wisely, Lindsey ran straight for Bruce's office, shutting doors behind her and tossing things out of her way as she went.

She arrived at the almost pitch black office and searched for anything she could use as a weapon. As she was rushing around, she stepped on the hammer Bruce had been using to put his new desk together. She clamped a hand tight over her mouth to keep from yelling out in pain, feeling the bottom of her foot bleed. She picked the hammer up and held it to her as she scrambled under the desk.

A few seconds later, the door flew open. Both men came storming in.

"Well get the lights!"

"But if she's not here, she'll know where we are!"

"She's here, dumbass! Little bitch is gonna pay for this…"

Lindsey assumed the more hostile sounding one was the one she stabbed. She clutched the hammer closer to her chest and bit her lip at the stinging pain in her foot.

She listened as they rummaged through the room and began crawling out from under the desk as they approached. As soon as she saw the shadow of one, she jumped up and drove the claw end of the hammer into his stomach.

He doubled over in pain and the other one stood in shock. She used the stall to push past him and run back toward a spare room she remembered had a fire escape. The men had turned on the lights in the house as they chased after her, which was both good and bad for her.

She had been able to see their faces for what little good that did for her. They were both wearing clown masks, but she'd been able to hear their voices well enough. They sounded somewhat familiar, but she couldn't figure out where else she'd heard them.

Lindsey made a sharp turn down one of the hallways and ran straight into one of the clown men. Judging by the way he was cradling a bleeding hand, she concluded she'd hammered the "nice" one and was now face to face with the angrier one.

He growled and shoved her backwards into one of the guest bedrooms. She fell to the ground with her back against the bed. The man stalked up to her and pulled her up to her feet, only to shove her back onto the bed.

Lindsey screamed and lashed out at him, knowing what he could try to do. As he pushed her wrists flat against the sheets, she poised to jerk her knee between his legs, but soon found she didn't have to.

A gun shot stopped the both of them. Lindsey looked out from underneath her assailant to see another clown type figure standing in the doorway. This one however was wearing makeup instead of a mask. Lindsey immediately knew who he was.

"Now," he began as if he were lecturing a misbehaving kindergarten class, "Did I tell you to rape the girl?"

Lindsey attacker briefly glanced at her before looking back to the boss.

"No…" he answered softly.

"Then why are you still on top of her?"

"She stabbed me!"

The boss man eye's seems to darken. He raised his gun and promptly shot his follower instead of the wall as he had previously done.

Lindsey shouted in both horror and disgust as his blood sprayed on her from the fatal shot in the chest.

The Joker sighed and stashed away the gun, taking slow deliberate steps toward the frozen Lindsey.

"Do you know what I hate more than anything, Miss Brooks?"

Lindsey recoiled at the use of her name. The question was polite, but coming from him sounded more taunting and sinister. Still trying to catch her breath, she managed to shake her head in a negative response.

Joker finally stopped at the bed and roughly pulled her to her feet. "People without manners. Very irritating," he drawled, repeating himself from Nick's party.

_But you just broke into the house._

Lindsey braced herself for the fatal blow. Claire, Nick, Aubrey, and Ian each died after an encounter with this man. Now here he was in her temporary home…with her little sister hiding somewhere else.

"Please don't hurt her," she pleaded in a hoarse whisper. The Joker chuckled, "The little ones aren't as pleasing. They don't take much blood loss to croak. You and that mouthy little friend of yours- I'm saving the both of you for last. By then, you'll be begging for it."

Lindsey could feel herself let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in at the sound of police sirens approaching.

Joker just chuckled and hissed in her ear, "You tell them I'm not done yet. Goodnight!"

Before Lindsey could question the "goodnight," he'd taken a step away from her, only to punch her across the face, sending her reeling back and hitting her head on the wooden bed frame. The last thing she heard before blacking out was the Joker's maniacal, bloodcurdling laugh.


	7. Chapter 7: Surprise

**Chapter Seven: Surprise**

"_I don't need to be here," Nick Ramie shouted. Lindsey frantically surveyed the room, dazed and confused due to the blinding white walls. Her eyes finally landed on a door that Nick was pounding his fists against._

"_Hello," he shouted, "I think you're just ignoring me now!"_

"_Shut up, man," a melancholy voice echoed. Lindsey noticed Ian sitting on a white couch. She knitted her brow in confusion. The couch hadn't been there before._

"_Ah, you," Nick pointed over his shoulder at Ian, still keeping his front side against the door, "Are a douchebag."_

"_And you are a dumbass," Ian retorted, not moving from his spot on the couch, "Nobody can hear you."_

_Instead of responding with some snide remark as Lindsey fully expected him to, Nick started singing, or rather chanting._

"_I just gotta get out of my prison cell," he pounded the door once again before the next verse, "One day I'm gonna be free, Lord! Find me somebody to love!" Instead of his fist, he beat his head into the door but stopped singing, "Anything? Come on, are you made of stone? I don't need to be here!"_

"_I said shut up," Ian roared in a very inhuman voice, causing Lindsey to yelp and_ jolt herself awake.

Now sitting up straight, Lindsey observed the new foreign room. She whimpered at the same white wall, white couch, and white door, but soon relaxed at the friendlier more colorful décor. A speaker hooked onto the wall in the corner by the door was playing music. Ironically, the same Queen song Nick had started singing in Lindsey's dream was playing, "Somebody to Love."

A nurse opened the door and a girl Lindsey's age walked in.

"Monica?"

"Hey," she responded, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, facing Lindsey near her stomach, "How you feeling?"

"My head hurts like hell, but other than that I guess I can't complain," Lindsey answered cynically. Monica snorted, "Hasn't been a fun night for any of us. I ran into John on the way here. He was bitching and moaning about how he'll be next in line since the Joker skipped you last night. The way they were throwing their tantrums I'm now convinced we're filming Final Destination."

Lindsey almost laughed, but the Joker's words kept playing in her mind. She went through a silent debate on whether or not to tell Monica. She would definitely tell Gordon, but should she tell anybody else?

Monica apparently was going to answer the question for her.

"What did he say to you?" She added at Lindsey's blank stare, "Well he didn't kill you obviously-"

With that, Lindsey had a sudden epiphany, "Abby! Where is she? Is she ok?"

"Yeah, she's fine. She's with Bruce and that Victor guy. I don't know his name, but he's old, kind of gray and looked like a Vic to me. Back on subject, what did Joker say to you?"

_Typical Monica,_ Lindsey thought. "It's Alfred, just so you know. Well…he said he's saving us for last. Actually, he said he's saving me and my mouthy little friend for last."

Monica snickered with a somewhat daunted look on her face, "Mouthy little friend. Anything else?"

"He said that by then we'll be begging for it, and to tell the police he wasn't done yet."

Monica rolled her eyes, "If he wanted you to tell them that why the hell did he knock you out? God, that ego-masturbatory asshole is really not as genius as he makes himself out to be. Crafty, yes, but still quite dumb."

Lindsey couldn't stifle a chuckle before continuing, "Why is he saving us for last?"

"Probably because we were the only ones he contacted directly at the party and survived. Or maybe because you were personally saved by Batsy. Or because we were on the news."

"Or maybe because you called him a shitwad on him and kicked him in the balls," Lindsey added casually, as if they were talking about the weather.

"Could be. All I know now is that we need to stick together. I'm not just going to stand in line like a piggy at a slaughterhouse."

"So…did Houser call your home?" Lindsey asked quietly. Monica nodded, looking angrier each second, "The nerve of that 'looks pregnant, needs to wear a bra' asshole! Expelling us! I can't believe he's just leaving it at that!"

Lindsey cringed, "Is he really?"

"Well no, but if he hadn't gotten angry phone calls he would have. He's having us all meet in his office tomorrow to discuss the alternatives he's going to pull out of his ass."

Before Lindsey could respond, a nurse poked her head inside the room, "Miss DuPriest, visiting hours are over."

Monica nodded in response and the nurse left. She stood up off the bed and grabbed her purse and jacket.

"Call me if you're still here for the evening visiting hours, ok? And make sure you tell Gordon what Joker told you."

Lindsey smirked at Monica's orders, "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

"Mom, I'm fine now. Don't go Joan-zilla the airport to try to get home and protect me."

Lindsey's mother had called her soon after Monica left. Bruce had kept in touch with her, but Joan hadn't quite gotten a grasp of deciphering the time difference between England and the US. With her work schedule, she would have only been ale to call Lindsey during school or ridiculously early or late.

"Even if I wanted to I couldn't!" Joan shouted, but not in any anger toward Lindsey, "The one and only flight to the states today has been canceled for God and Jesus know why and the flights for tomorrow and Thursday are completely booked. If I stay that long, there's no way I can get out of the Friday meetings and tea party."

"Dump the tea," Lindsey offered, "I remember some history. The Boston Tea Party?"

"Not cute," Joan snapped, "I should've come home earlier. No, I shouldn't have let Shawn talk me into going at all after that second news incident."

Lindsey rolled her eyes and restrained a groan. She'd nearly forgotten about the article incident until then. She listened as another British non-Shawn voice uttered a few words to her mother.

"Do you need to go?" she asked. Joan sighed, "They're asking for me. I don't have to…"

"Yeah you do," Lindsey interrupted softly, "Bye Mom. Love you."

"As soon as I can catch a flight out I will call you back."

"Bye Mom."

* * *

The nurse said she'd be able to leave in the morning. Her doctor said she'd be able to leave in the morning. Alfred said she could leave in the morning. Lindsey herself said she would leave in the morning.

Why was Bruce being the difficult oddball out and making her stay until the next evening?

"I can't stay here. If I do, I really will give you a reason to think there's something wrong with me," she said with a glare as Bruce gave her his news.

"If we take you back in the morning," he tried to calmly explain, but he too was a bit agitated, "There's no guarantee you'll be safe during the times the others have been attacked. If you stay here during the day and you come back home when Alfred and I are with you, I know we'd all feel a hell a lot better."

"I could still be killed here. What if one of the nurses or doctors are actually one of the Joker's men and decides to euthanize me?"

"Won't happen."

Lindsey laughed scathingly, "You once told me _nothing_ would happen to me and look where I am now!"

Bruce stared down at her, seeming to bite back any equally contemptuous retort. "You're staying," he spoke with resolve.

"No I'm not," she spat back.

"You don't have a say in that. You need a parent or guardian to sign you out since you're still under eighteen."

"I'm sure my mother will just love the fact that you're making me stay here," Lindsey drawled as she reached for her phone, "Why don't we check?"

Bruce grabbed the phone from her hands before she could dial, "You won't always be able to run to your mom when you're not getting your way."

"You would know, wouldn't you?" she snapped, and immediately cringed at how harsh the question and she herself sounded.

"I didn't mean it like that," she said quietly and remorsefully.

"You did," Bruce replied simply, though not angrily, "That's ok. You understand as well."

She hardly had to contemplate that he was insinuating to her late father as she had his parents. They were silent for a few tense seconds before Bruce decided to leave.

"See you tomorrow."

* * *

The next day during the noon visiting hours, Monica was unsurprisingly the first to drop by.

"Michael Carey and Elvira Benedetti chewed Houser a new one, so he's allowing us to continue online," she explained the meeting with Principal Houser over the students' expulsion, "So you should have emails from your teachers about your lessons and assignments by the time you get home."

Lindsey nodded absentmindedly. She couldn't have cared less about certain school subjects other than one.

"Did you by any chance find out what Mr. Riley wanted me to do?"

Monica nodded, "He and Houser want you to come in tomorrow during fourth period. I'm not sure why?"

Lindsey sighed, sending Monica a grateful smile but all the while feeling a knot of dread at the pit of her stomach. She would have to pick out a new editor in chief.

A nurse opened the door and Angela walked inside. She took a seat on the foot of the bed next to Monica and held a bottle out for Lindsey to take.

"Hair dye?" Lindsey asked with a smile. Monica was far from amused. She stared at Angela like a smashed bug on the bottom of her shoe.

"I'm going darker too," Angela explained, "I figured you might want to. It might throw them off. They'll be looking for a girl with golden blonde hair – me – and a girl with mousy kind of dusty looking brown hair – you. So if you go to a dark brown almost Monica black, they'll be so confused…"

"We get it," Monica snapped, "You and Lindsey change hair color, the clowns get confused, you're always confused, you're annoying, goodbye!"

"Monica!" Lindsey laughed, "Thanks Angela. That's really…considerate of you."

Angela sent one last glare to Monica before getting up to leave, "Don't mention it. I gotta go now. John's waiting."

Lindsey snorted, "Tell him I said hi."

"Tell him I said go jump in a lake," Monica mumbled as Angela shut the door behind her.

Lindsey laughed again and kicked Monica off the bed.

* * *

By that evening, Lindsey was feeling very irate. She'd been awake in her depressing hospital room way too long for any healthy person, Angela kept showing up throughout the day with even more conspiracy theories about how to throw the clowns off their tracks, the nurses who decided to keep her company would just form little circles and gossip about the hot doctors and slutty interns, and Bruce managed to sign her out but didn't bother to actually come into the room to pick her up. Instead he sent Alfred.

"Did he really have to work or did he not want to see me?" she asked Alfred bluntly as he drove her back to the penthouse.

"He is working, Miss Brooks. I can guarantee that," he answered. Lindsey shrugged, not caring enough to interrogate the older man over the subject.

"Alfred, what time is it?" She felt too drowsy/lazy to search for the clock in the car.

"Five o clock, miss."

'Mr. Riley should still be in his office,' she thought before telling Alfred, "Can you drive me to the school?"

Alfred cast her a confused sideways glance, but answered positive nonetheless.

Needless to say, Mr. Riley was surprised to see Lindsey walk into his office as he was packing up.

"Sorry," she offered as she sat down, "I just didn't know if I'd be able to tomorrow."

Mr. Riley smiled and nodded in understanding, "Made your decision and it's not popular?"

Lindsey cringed, "Mm-hmm. I mean I'll still plan on coming tomorrow, but just in case I don't…"

"It's alright."

She took a deep breath, not quite understanding why she was so nervous to just tell Mr. Riley, "I chose Corey."

He chuckled, "And the girls will be pretty infuriated with you, huh? One in particular?"

"Kelsey," she sighed, "I know."

"I'll let them know tomorrow," Mr. Riley assured her, "I don't think you need that after you've just been released."

"Thank you."

* * *

"So why exactly did you want to do this again?" Monica asked as she opened the bottle of hair dye Angela had given Lindsey. The latter had asked her to come over and help her. Monica's mother was a hair stylist.

"I don't really know," Lindsey answered, "Because I want a fresh start?"

"Not gonna happen."

"Stop being such a killjoy. I've never colored my hair at all. Does it hurt?"

Monica shook her head, "Nah, only if you bleach it. Then it can burn like a bitch. Sometimes it'll turn out an orange color especially if your scalp is burnt. Oh don't look so doe eyed Bambi. You're going darker."

Lindsey kicked her lightly, "Let's just get it done."

Monica began combing through Lindsey wet hair, "I take it this is going to be a surprise to your superiors?"

"You could say that."

"And it's not going to be a very pleasant surprise? As in Bruce is going to tattle and your mom is going to stink eye and scream at you from Indonesia or wherever the hell she is?"

"You could say that too."

"Well then hey," Monica laughed, "Let's do this."

* * *

"I like it, actually," Lindsey commented as she was finally able to see her new dark brown almost Monica black hair as Angela would put it. Monica snorted, "Good. Someone will. I did a good job though."

"Bruce is home!" Abby shouted from the kitchen. Lindsey winced and laughed at the same time, "You should probably go."

Monica nodded and pat her on the shoulder, "You might not be able to see the sunlight for a while."

Lindsey waved her off with one hand as they walked back into her room. She heard her greet Bruce as they walked past each other.

"Lindsey, do you still need a ride to…" Bruce trailed off as he stood in her doorway. Lindsey slowly looked to the side to see his shocked expression. She smiled sheepishly.

"Surprise?"

* * *

For those of you who never saw/don't remember my pun for this part: Nobody died in this chapter, just dyed! Hahahahaha I should be shot...


	8. Chapter 8: And Then There Were Four

**Chapter Eight: And Then There Were Four**

Bruce's jaw snapped shut, his lips forming a straight line as he marched over to where Lindsey was sitting on her bed. He took a lock of hair in his hand and demanded, "What is this?"

Lindsey stared up at him, "My hair."

He dropped her hair and glared down at her, "What did you do to it?"

"Washed it, brushed it, what do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Lindsey," he snapped, "Did Joan ever give you permission to do this?"

Lindsey folded her arms and said in a slightly condescending tone, "Why don't you _ask_ her? You're good at that."

Bruce fell silent. Lindsey could understand his shock. The almost black was a fairly big change from her usual light brown, almost dirty blonde hair. Bruce and her mother were not people who adjusted well to change of any sort.

"Bruce, I'm sorry," she said in a less severe manner, "It's just…it's really not a big deal. It's hair."

"It's not the hair," he droned, pulling her desk chair up in front of her, "It's the…while you're living with me, you need to come to me before you do something like this."

He cut her off when she opened her mouth to protest, "I know. It's your hair. It's your body. You can mutilate and discolor it however you want, but you need to consult me, or when they're home your mom and Shawn before you do."

Lindsey tore her glare away from Bruce at the mention of Shawn. "You don't…"

"I know I'm not your father," Bruce forced out exasperatedly, "But is it really so hard for you to just listen to me every once in a while?"

"You and Shawn aren't my father. You're right," she matched his tone, "Chris Brooks decided to go out late with his jackass brothers and psychotic sisters and end up taking a dirt nap."

"You shouldn't talk like that," Bruce scolded sternly.

"It's the truth," she said softly, barely above a whisper, "Obviously we all don't need a father figure or else he'd still be here."

"And Shawn wouldn't. You do need something-"

"If you're planning to keep lecturing," she cut him off in the same fashion he had done to her, "Then I'm sure Abby would love to listen to you all day."

She hopped up to her feet and began flouncing out of her room and down the hallway, grabbing her car keys off the hook in the kitchen as she passed. She figured Bruce wouldn't mind if she just took a spin for an hour or so.

* * *

"God Mom, it's just a little darker and it's just hair! It will grow out!" A few minutes after she left, Lindsey's mother called to give her an earful. Lindsey didn't even need to ask if Bruce had called her yet.

"You need to ask or at least tell someone you're doing these things!"

"I told Monica."

"An adult, Lindsey! Who knows, your hair could've caught on fire, fallen out, turned neon green, poisoned you, you could've been allergic to the dye, and who knows if it would've stopped with hair? I could come home next Saturday and see you inked up and have every possibly place on your body pierced! Where does it stop?"

Lindsey held the phone away form her ear and took a few deep breaths before speaking with Joan again, "I'm sorry I didn't at least leave you a message to tell you that I was dying my hair. I didn't want to interrupt Shawn as he tried to snake you into moving in with him and carting us off again."

Joan was silent for a few seconds before asking, "Is that what this is really about? Me and Shawn?"

"No forget it," Lindsey answered with a sigh, "It's not about you. It's about me I guess. Maybe the drive will clear my head."

"Wait, you're driving, too?" Joan demanded, "You should not be on the phone and driving at the same time!"

"Well then I'll talk to you later unless I'm interrupting any _meetings_!" Lindsey snapped her phone shut and tossed it carelessly on the passenger seat.

As much as she hated to admit it, she was feeling more and more guilty about her conversation with Bruce and somehow her mother. She thought about turning right then and heading back home until she checked her rearview mirror.

A black Jeep Wrangler had swerved and almost hit the Mustang behind her. The Mustang pulled off to the side and the Wrangler pulled in behind her, leaving no space between them.

Lindsey recognized the black Wrangler as John's. She made a lane change to avoid his tailgating, but he followed her into the new lane. Narrowing her eyes at the rearview mirror, Lindsey switched back to her original lane. Instead of following her, John sped up so he was driving right next to her.

Lindsey decelerated and moved behind John's car. He switched lanes again and repeated her action.

Now beyond frustrated, Lindsey rolled her window down, stuck her arm out, and flipped him off. She made a right turn and pulled into a gas station. John of course followed.

"What the hell was that?" Lindsey demanded, opening her door and standing behind it as John approached.

"Would you have pulled over if I didn't?" he asked, "I need to talk to you."

"And being an asshole driver is the best way?"

"Would you shut up for a minute? I know that'll be hard for you but listen!" With that, he pulled his hone out of his back pocket, pressed a few buttons, and held it out for Lindsey to read his text message.

"You're next, jockstrap," she read aloud, "And it'll be much more fun than banging Blondie."

"That's the fifth one I've gotten just today," he said shakily. Lindsey squinted, never having seen John genuinely scared before.

"Have you told anyone but me?"

"No. One of the threats was not to…or he'd kill Angela…and make me watch."

Lindsey fell silent. John hadn't gone to the police in some hope of protecting Angela. Despite her dislike for the classmate in front of her, she couldn't help but think of the act as chivalrous.

"Maybe we should go get Angela and, I guess, take this to Gordon."

John nodded slowly, "Yeah." He suddenly perked his head up, much in the manner of a watchdog, and sniffed the air, "Do you smell something burning?"

Lindsey shrugged, "Well, this is a gas station…"

"No. Not gas. Fire."

Lindsey looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, a small fire had started inside the station's shop and was spreading down one of the snack aisle. Her eyes widened at the cries for help.

"I'm gonna call- John, wait!" She shouted as John started sprinting inside. Lindsey groaned loudly and punched 911 into her phone. She quickly informed the operator of the fire and the address of the station before hanging up.

A few people ran outside and uncovered a safe distance away from the burning building. Lindsey desperately watched and waited to see if John would come out. He finally emerged in the doorway carrying a little girl and sprinted over to Lindsey.

"There's more in there," he panted, handing the crying girl to Lindsey, "I'm going back in."

"John, the fire department's coming. John!"

Lindsey gently laid the girl in her backseat, started the car, and turned the air conditioning on. A woman came stumbling outside, screaming about losing a child. Lindsey quickly pulled the girl out and waved the woman over.

"Oh thank you," she cried, taking her daughter, "Thank you! We need to get out now!"

"I know. I'm waiting for my friend-"

"No, honey, you can't wait. There's bomb in there!"

Lindsey chocked on her own breath, "What?" The lady and her daughter had already run off. Lindsey climbed back in her car and reversed to a safer distance. She shifted into park and glued her eyes back to the door.

A figure emerged from the flames just as the fire truck pulled up to the station. Lindsey turned off the ignition and climbed outside to see if the person was John. She gasped as she could clearly make out the figure of the Joker.

His laughed echoed in her ears right before the station exploded, the force of it tipping the fire truck over on its side.

"No," Lindsey whispered hoarsely to herself. Without even thinking, she started jogging toward the wreckage until she was grabbed from behind. She screamed and started hitting at the arms around her waist until a gravelly voice hissed in her ear.

"Stop. You're not getting yourself killed."

Lindsey could immediately recognize the Batman's voice. Contrary to what he just ordered, she went spastic. She turned herself so she was facing his and started beating at his chest and struggling in his vice grip.

"You let this happen!" she screamed at him, "How could you? You let him get away!"

He said nothing, just allowed her to continue until she finally wore herself out. She allowed herself go limp as he held her up on her feet.

"He's gone," she whimpered, "Another one. There're only four of us left now."

He didn't respond. Instead, he caught sight of Gordon as he and two other police cars entered the scene. In the same manner as he did at Nick's party, he placed Lindsey inside one of the cars. She didn't even bother to tell him she had her car.

'John's dead,' she thought, rocking herself back and forth in her seat, 'John's dead.'

_No he's not. He could've survived, no thanks to you._

"Shut up," Lindsey told herself through her sobs. She pulled her feet up on the seat and rested her head on her knees.

She couldn't look at the fire. Any sort of flame was sinister. She could only imagine the scene at the party- the explosion after Aubrey, Claire, Nick, Ian, John, Monica, Angela, and Dominic were rescued.

_You should've been there helping them. Instead you took the easy way out. Or at least, Bat Freak gave you the easy way out. Bruce and Batsy and your mom won't always be there for you._

The sound of water spraying from a strong hose started caused Lindsey to herself back into reality she was staring at the fire that was being put out.

"What is wrong with me?" she asked herself as she stumbled out of the car. She pivoted in the opposite direction of the destructed gas station and trudged down the road.

The only thing on her mind was to get away. She had no idea where she would go, but she knew she had to go somewhere else.

She had only been walking for a few minutes, thoughts of all of the deceased students- Claire, Nick, Ian, Aubrey, and now John playing through her mind. Until tonight, she'd still been in shock. Lindsey wanted so desperately for someone to jump out and tell her this was all a sick prank.

"Idiot. That won't happen," she berated herself. As she rounded the corner into a darker part of the street, someone grabbed her upper arm and yanked her around to face them.

Lindsey found herself staring curiously up at the familiar masked face. Something about the way his mouth was set in a straight line and his eyes blazed into her own felt somewhat familiar. She couldn't put a finger on why, but she felt like she knew this strange man.

"I told you not to move," He rasped out, his grip on her arm tightening painfully. Lindsey cringed in pain, "When?"

"Don't you listen?" he growled. She recoiled at the almost animalistic pitch. "Is it really that hard for you?"

His second question made her freeze. Why did that sound so familiar?

"_I know I'm not your father," Bruce forced out exasperatedly, "But is it really so hard for you to just listen to me every once in a while?"_

In her bemused state, he easily dragged her back in little ways in the direction she had come from. Lindsey was slightly surprised to see her car parked alongside the road, but safely assumed it was either Herbie (which was also a bug) or Batman had driven it. She climbed in the driver's seat as soon as he opened the door.

"Go back home. And stay there," he ordered before disappearing off into the night. Lindsey started the car and, as instructed, made her way back to Bruce's penthouse.

"It's a coincidence," she told herself, amused at her previous thought process, "He's just a crazy man in a cape. Bruce Wayne- dorky, cocky, annoying, pretty boy Bruce Wayne is not Batman. The Batman will turn out to be Monica or Alfred before he's revealed as Bruce."

Lindsey jumped in her seat as her phone vibrated loudly on the dashboard. She reached out and grabbed the phone flipping it open and seeing she had received a text.

Looking back and forth between the screen and the road, she read the message to herself, "I know you were there. He won't always be around. I thought about you as I was melting Jockstrap. From a friend."

Not too much logic was needed to deduct that the threat was from the Joker.


	9. Chapter 9: Tough but Fair

**Chapter Nine: Tough but Fair**

Lindsey decided eventually that she needed extra preparation time before she could face Bruce. As if on autopilot, she found herself pulled alongside Kelsey's house. She wasn't surprised when Kelsey's father answered the door. He was a night shift doctor and was usually up at inhuman hours.

"Hey Mr. Halifax," she greeted. He smiled warmly, though his eyes revealed some confusion, "Lindsey, something wrong? I mean, you're always welcome here but I wouldn't expect you to visit so late on a school night."

"Nothing's…" she trailed off, finding herself unable to lie to the man, "I just…I don't know. Is Kelsey home?"

Mr. Halifax nodded, "In her room. She'll probably still be up _not _doing her history paper."

"Thanks," Lindsey replied, already making her way up the stairs. Kelsey's house wasn't huge or extravagant, but it was of a more upper middle class build with telltale signs of numerous family inhabitants. One could barely navigate up or down the stairs without stepping on clothes or toys or shoes.

Lindsey tiptoed across the upstairs hallway, careful not to wake any of Kelsey's younger siblings, and entered her friend's room. As her father had previously stated, Kelsey was lying on her bed with her laptop on the floor.

Kelsey barely turned her head in Lindsey's direction to acknowledge the latter's presence. "What are you doing here?" she asked coldly. Lindsey winced, "I needed somewhere to go."

"So you came here?"

Lindsey emitted a frustrated sigh and sat down on the side of the bed, "Look, if you're mad because I chose Corey for the spot…"

"It's not that," Kelsey cut her off with a drawl, sitting up so she could look Lindsey in the eyes, "Anyone would pick Corey. He's an amazing writer. There's just no way I'm safe around you now."

Lindsey could only let out a single sardonic laugh before she demanded, "You believe that? You of all people- I thought I could at least turn to _you._"

Kelsey squeezed her eyes shut, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes as she forced out, "Lindsey, put yourself in my place for a second. You and eight other people survive an attack by the Joker, some of them are dead now, I get news from freaking Monica DuPriest that you're in the hospital, then I hear that you and the rest of your little survivor group are too dangerous to come back to school. How do you want me to react?"

Lindsey stood up from the bed and began pacing. "Ok," she started calmly, "You're right. You have no idea what's going on. I've got a huge target on my back and even if I were a cat I should be dead by now. People around me are getting hurt at least mentally. Yes, Kelsey, I understand where you're coming from." She ceased her pacing at the door. Before she left, she locked eyes with Kelsey.

"_You_ must be so scared," Lindsey spat out before shutting the door behind her and jogging down the stairs. Once she got back to her car, she allowed herself a few minutes to calm down before starting her beloved Bug.

The familiar chiming muffled by her bottomless pit of a purse alerted her of a text message. Lindsey turned off the ignition, figuring one of her guardians be it Bruce or her mother was trying to contact her. She fished her phone out of her bag and opened the message.

_**When life gives you lemons take life by the testes and squeeze until it gives you the oranges you asked for. Be aggressive. Don't make me do the cheer for you after that lovely chat with your BFF. From a friend.**_

Lindsey shuddered and tossed her phone in the general vicinity of the passenger's seat, not caring at the moment if the device were to break through and shatter the window. She hit the ignition and sped off wanting nothing more than to get back home.

* * *

Upon her return to the penthouse, Lindsey felt a heavy object attach at her waist. She looked down to see Abby's big brown eyes blinking up at her with concern. "You look scared," she said, "What's wrong? Where were you?"

Lindsey attempted a crooked smile and gently pushed her younger sister away. "Where's Bruce?" she asked, "Or Alfred?"

Abby pointed down the hallway where the older of the men was strolling down. When he saw Lindsey, his pace quickened and he began examining her, "Miss Lindsey. Master Wayne set out for you…"

He was cut off as Lindsey threw her arms around his neck, pulling him down to meet her five-foot stature so she could sob into his shoulder. Alfred stood stunned, never knowing Lindsey to be an affectionate person, before sitting her down on one of the couches.

Lindsey rested her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, slightly embarrassed as having begun to unload in front of Abby and Alfred, the latter of whom had left for the telephone to notify Bruce of her return.

Abby hopped up on the couch next to her sister, who was taking deep breaths and hard swallows to choke back any more tears.

"I know how to cheer you up," the younger girl exclaimed, "I learned a joke in school today."

Lindsey chuckled and sat up, "Alright."

"What did the old light bulb say to the new light bulb?" Abby started. Lindsey smiled and shrugged. "You're too young to go out!" Abby concluded excitedly.

"Give me a minute," Lindsey grumbled. Abby just giggled, "You'll get it later."

Both girls jumped at the sound of a slammed door. Soon enough, Bruce strode into the room and pulled Lindsey up into a tight embrace. Lindsey awkwardly pat his shoulder, realizing how Alfred must've felt earlier.

Bruce pushed her away and held her at arms' length, kneeling down so his eyes were level with hers, "Where the hell were you? The gas station a few miles down exploded and killed people! Do you have any idea how scared we were?"

"Yeah," she answered quietly, "I was there."

"What?"

Lindsey tried to form coherent words, but none would exit her mouth. She shrugged helplessly and tried not to burst into tears at the thought of John and the fire- or the text about the two.

Bruce stared at her for a few tense seconds before briefly turning his head toward Alfred, "Take Abby to her room." The older man nodded and Abby willingly went along with him, remembering the few knock down drag outs she witnessed in the past between her mother and her sister.

Bruce waited until the two were out of earshot before turning on Lindsey, "You should know by now how stupid it is to go out in the evening. Look at what happened!"

Lindsey's brows knit together and she stared at him incredulously, "Are you saying it's my fault?"

"Think about it," Bruce demanded, his voice gradually raising, "If you had just stayed put and stayed where I could keep an eyes on you like I said I would, you at least wouldn't have been involved in this. They're saying it was the Joker, Lindsey! Do you not understand what I'm trying to convey here? Damn it, if I were Joan I wouldn't have left you after that first round."

Lindsey emitted a scream of frustration before matching his tone, "God, I'm sick of it here! I'm sick of this penthouse, the dumbass reporters, the clown idiots, the Joker, of Gotham, of _you_!"

Bruce shouted to her back as she marched in the direction of her room, "Well what do you want me to do about that? Huh? What do you want?"

Lindsey twirled on her heel at her door to face him, "Why don't you just cart me off to Smallville or _Asia_ for a few years until this all bowls over? You're pretty good at running away when things don't go your way, aren't you?"

"You don't know a thing about that," he said in a dark, almost frightening voice, "You don't have anything to compare."

"Were you running away from someone who was trying to kill you? Someone who _promised_ to kill you only after he picked off your friends?"

By then, Bruce had stalked over to stand only a few feet in front of her as opposed to across the hallway. "Maybe you'd be better accommodated with Gordon," he said, "Since I'm apparently not up to your standards. What do want me to do? Get you a child leash? Keep you here under lock and key? I'm trying to help you, Lindsey, keep you _safe_ but you're not even letting me in."

"Bruce, who are you kidding?" she demanded in response, "You don't want to help me. You just want to pay my mom back for all the shit she's done for you in the past by letting her kids stay here. As long as I don't die on your watch you couldn't care less."

To her shock Bruce slammed his fist into the wall above her head before abruptly storming off in the direction of his room. Lindsey stared doe eyed at the dented, slightly cracked spot on the wall. Just a little bit lower and the spot would not have been the wall. Had that been his original intention?

Lindsey took a deep, shaky breath before stepping into her room. She took slow steps toward her bed and collapsed into the mess of pillows and sheets, finally letting out the tears she'd been holding back for a long time.


	10. Chapter 10: Confrontations

**Chapter Ten: Confrontations**

That morning, Bruce woke Lindsey up at 8 a.m. only to take away her car keys and instruct her to be up and ready in one hour. He didn't reasonably trust her to stay home alone, so she would have to go to the office with him. Alfred had been persuaded by Abby to be a chaperone at her class's field trip, to which Lindsey informed the older man that Abby never even asked their mother or Shawn to do.

Bruce hardly said two words to her after his instructions. Frustrated that he wouldn't even speak to her in full sentences, Lindsey threw her wet hair up in a careless messy bun and dressed herself in worn ripped jeans and a gray sweatshirt. His lack of a reaction when she presented herself only aggravated her further.

The ride to Bruce's office was silent. Lindsey didn't mind; she wasn't in the mood to speak with him. After a while, he decided to break the silence by saying, "You're wearing the boots."

Lindsey's eyebrows shot up and she looked at him as if he had just told her he was Batman, "Huh?"

Bruce smirked, "The boots I got you last year when you were on that strange vegan phase. If I remember correctly you screamed about how you could not stick your feet in an inside out animal."

Lindsey continued to stare strangely at him before looking down at her shoes. Sure enough, she was wearing the Ugg boots he'd given to her for her sixteenth birthday. From the time she was fifteen, when her health class had taken a trip to a meat packing plant to teach them about food born illnesses, until she had sudden cravings for chicken and cheeseburgers Lindsey opposed all meat and animal products. This included the very thoughtful gift from dear old "uncle Bruce."

Of course, at the time Lindsey had assumed Bruce only gave her the boots to egg her on. Later when she got over her animal rights activism, she wore them frequently throughout the winter.

She wasn't quite ready to give Bruce that satisfaction yet, so she shrugged, "It's chilly."

"Alright," Bruce answered slyly, the smirk still present.

Lindsey snapped her head to the side to glare at him, "It is!"

"I believe you."

"You should," Lindsey answered haughtily, though she knew he caught the corners of her mouth twitching into an involuntary smile.

* * *

"It's big," Lindsey commented as Bruce led her into his office at Wayne Enterprises. He merely nodded as he tossed his jacket onto the couch next to the large desk, "Made sure of it. You never know when someone needs to bring a sloppy teenager in."

Lindsey sneered at him, flopping down on the couch and kicking his jacket over the opposite end. "I'm not sloppy."

Bruce nodded to the jacket on the floor. She just shrugged, "It was in my way."

"Right," he answered shortly, "Well, I'm already twenty minutes late to the meeting, thanks to someone who takes four and a half hours in the shower and still emerges with wet hair."

Lindsey smirked. She had taken extra care to spend longer than usual getting ready. "So go," she ordered jokingly as she picked up a magazine from the coffee table in front of her.

"Stay here," he said sternly before making his exit. Lindsey chuckled and shook her head, finding the fact that she could forgive Bruce without even receiving the apology she'd previously expected amusing. In the back of her mind though, she knew she wasn't helping him adjust to living with two young girls.

As she absentmindedly flipped through her magazine, Lindsey hardly noticed the door creaking open until a gravely voice announced the presence of its owner.

"Tell me, Miss Brooks, because I'm very curious."

Lindsey lowered her magazine, gradually white knuckling the pages in each hand as she saw a familiar looking middle-aged man shut the door behind him and pace toward her.

"You're known as the heroic little girl who supposedly single handedly brought down a disregarded school drug scandal, you're living with close family friend and billionaire prince of Gotham, you killed a man, caused the death of one- although if he hadn't been shot he'd have no use for the hand you ruined, severely injured another man who was- like his comrade- just doing a job he was assigned, and _ruined his life_," he shouted the last part, causing Lindsey to jump. She had by now risen to her feet and was edging nearer to Bruce's desk as the man was slowly making his way to her.

He clapped his hands together once and added with a sarcastic laugh, "Oh yeah! And because of the first three or four reasons I mentioned, you caught the attention of a clinically insane homicidal maniac and you are causing the deaths of everyone around you!"

Lindsey shook her head, hand clamped over her mouth. She tried to block out his words even though she found the task growing in difficulty as he continued his tirade.

"That's right, sweetheart," he hissed with narrowed eyes and a wicked smirk, "The little nerd girl, the stoner, the Bible freak, the punk, the jock- you know the one they've reported missing but we both know he died in the fire at the gas station. Soon enough the princess, the loudmouth girl, her dork boyfriend, your sister, your mother, your Brucie and his butler, your little bat hero, everyone you've ever known and loved is going to die!"

Lindsey bit her lip hard and swallowed the lump in her throat. She had made it around to where Bruce's desk was between them. She was about to reach for the phone on his desk until she glanced over the man's shoulder.

Through the window in the door, Lindsey could clearly see the man she knew as Lucius Fox at the doorknob as Bruce glared daggers inside through the small window. Just as the door began to open, the man launched himself across the desk, landing right on top of Lindsey.

"It's all you!" he shouted in her face, "You'd be better off dead!"

Lindsey whimpered and managed to scamper out from underneath him as Bruce and Lucius yanked him away. She used Bruce's desk to pull herself up to her feet and staggered away to collapse on the couch.

As an entourage of security guards dragged the rambling old man out kicking and screaming, Bruce kneeled in front of his shaking ward.

"Lindsey," he said gently, brushing away a few strands of dark hair that had come loose form her messy bun, "Did he hurt you?"

Lidnsey didn't answer but stared at the floor. Out of the man's long tirade, a few phrases stuck in her mind.

_"And because of the first three or four reasons I mentioned, you caught the attention of a clinically insane homicidal maniac."_

_"…the jock- you know the one they've reported missing but we both know he died in the fire at the gas station."_

_"It's all you! You'd be better off dead!"_

"Lindsey? What'd he do?"

Lindsey didn't answer his question. She flicked her eyes upward so meet his and said just above a whisper, "I need to see Gordon."

* * *

"And he just started ranting about…it wasn't even one subject. But he said that because of the whole article/ steroid scandal at school being publicized, I caught the Joker's attention. Then he started listing off the ones who died and the ones who will die…and said something about John Carey."

Gordon nodded quickly, not wanting her to deviate from her story. Of the few times he'd spoken with Lindsey this was the first time he'd really gotten her to open up. "What about Mr. Carey in particular?"

"That he was reported missing," she answered, "Was he?"

"Yes. Last night, Michael and Anne Carey informed us that John did not return home. They've called his friends, the school, and family members, but they haven't seen him either. We have received reports of his plans to move to his family's ski resort in Wisconsin from a few who claimed to be his friends. We've arranged or a team to go out there and investigate."

Lindsey quietly interrupted, "No…John's dead. There's no way he could've survived the explosion."

Gordon's eyes briefly narrowed before he asked calmly, "Did you come in contact with him last night?"

"Yeah. He kind of flagged me down to the parking lot there. When the building caught on fire, he went in to save people," Lindsey trailed off, remembering each event vividly, "He actually rescued this girl that had to have been my little sister Abby's age. The mother got her and told me to run but I had to wait for him. Then the explosion…"

"Lindsey," Gordon started softly, "Only one body was recovered. That body belonged to an Italian man named Antonio Tazza."

"Couldn't DNA tests have been altered by the fire? The body had to have been-"

"The man was middle aged, heavy set, and five foot six. Does that sound like Mr. Carey?"

Lindsey glared at the man across from her, "No. It doesn't. But John Carey couldn't have survived that."

Gordon rested his elbows on the table to massage his temples. He sometimes forgot the persistency of young women. "How can you be sure?"

Lindsey sighed, reaching into her purse, digging out her cell, and opening up the first text message she'd received that night. She slid her phone across the table and allowed the man to see.

"I know you were there. He won't always be around. I thought about you as I was melting Jockstrap. From a friend," Gordon read out loud. He paused for a few moments of awkward silence, rereading the message before asking Lindsey, "Are there others like this?"

"Just one," Lindsey answered. She opened the second message and Gordon read this one to himself.

"Even if it doesn't exactly say Love Joker," Lindsey stated, believing she knew what Gordon would say, "It's got to be from him. Or some other sociopathic nut job is watching me."

"On the subject of John Carey," Gordon began sternly, not wanting her to rant any longer, "While this could be evidence of his death, no other body was recovered from the site-"

"Which could mean the Joker still killed him and those sources you're calling John's friends are working with the Joker and told you that he was talking about going to Wisconsin so the team you sent will find him burnt and dead in his parents' cabin thing."

Gordon held up a silencing hand, "Now is not the time for conspiracy theories. We have arranged for you, Angela Benedetti, and Monica DuPriest to live in one of our guarded quarters until we can get the situation under control."

Lindsey scoffed and leaned back in her chair, "So you're locking us up?"

"You're not going behind bars. We've developed a section that protects those endangered by loose criminals to live in until they are proven to be safe. It's pretty much a little house. This is the step we'd prefer to take before the Witness Protection Program."

As Gordon continued explaining Lindsey's relocation, she suddenly realized a detail of his statement.

"Hold on…Angela, Monica, and me? What about Dominic Randolph?"

Gordon looked surprised, a first sight for Lindsey, as he informed her cautiously, "Dominic Randolph? You haven't found out yet?"

"Obviously not. What happened to him?" she demanded anxiously.

"He was found dead at his home this morning."


	11. Chapter 11: Promise

**Chapter Eleven: Promise**

"Dominic's dead?" Lindsey whispered, unable to find her voice. Gordon nodded morosely, "With the trademark smile carved on…along with a confession written in blood about killing Claire DeFranc."

Part of Lindsey wanted to jump up and rub it into the man's face about knowing Claire's death was via the Joker, but her more rational side forced her to stay silent.

"Written in blood?" she asked just as softly as before. Gordon nodded in response. He began informing her of funeral plans, but Lindsey toned him out. She'd heard too many memorial service announcements for too many of her classmates.

While she never truly got to know Dominic, she had grown closer to Monica. Lindsey knew Monica and Dominic had something going on behind the scenes. She equated the two to being like Aubrey and Ian's Beauty and the Beast scenario, with Monica as the Beast and Dominic as Belle. Lindsey knew the Beast would be heartbroken. Her only intent now was to comfort the only friend she seemed to have.

_Unless Angela's a friend now... she did give me hair dye as a disguising tool._

Lindsey bitterly thought about Kelsey. The two had been friends since kindergarten. Lindsey could hardly believe how much the tables had turned in only a week and a half. Before then, she would have barely considered Monica an acquaintance and never even spared Angela a thought.

"Mr. Wayne will be taking you home to pack," Gordon informed her. Lindsey finally listened to him as he continued, "You'll meet up with Monica and Angela here and I will personally bring you three to the house."

Lindsey nodded and asked as an afterthought, "Are you planning on telling Bruce what I told you?"

"No. What you say in here is strictly between you and me unless an outsider's life is in danger. May I ask why?"

"I just…" Lindsey struggled for the right words, "I don't know how much he trusts me now."

Gordon stared at her down the bridge of his nose, "How much he trusts you or how much you trust him?"

Lindsey dropped her head so she could stare at the table. Hesitantly, she muttered loud enough for him to hear, "The man from Bruce's office…he did mention Bruce and Alfred…and my mom and my sister. Oh God, Abby!"

"We've received no evidence that she's in any immediate danger," Gordon answered calmly. Lindsey momentarily squeezed her eyes shut before drawling, "Only when I'm around huh?"

He equivocated her question by saying, "I don't want you to think of this as being 'locked up.' You will be fully accommodated…"

Lindsey toned him out once again as he described her new quarters. Her attention averted to a younger officer walking in the room with a plastic crate filled to the top with videotapes. She watched as he set the box in the cabinet just behind Gordon. Her eyes narrowed at the stacks of tapes filling the overstuffed shelves.

"Lindsey?" Gordon questioned, irritation present in his voice at her distraction. Lindsey slowly turned back to the man, "I understand."

Gordon sighed, "No you don't. But your guardian is here. I expect to see the three of you by this evening."

Lindsey nodded slowly and absently, her eyes locked on the now closed doors of the metal cabinet built into the wall.

"_You're known as the heroic little girl who supposedly single handedly brought down a disregarded school drug scandal, you're living with close family friend and billionaire prince of Gotham, you killed a man, caused the death of one- although if he hadn't been shot he'd have no use for the hand you ruined, severely injured another man who was- like his comrade- just doing a job he was assigned, and _ruined his life_!"_

"Gordon?" She voiced, stopping him on his way to the door. Gordon looked over his shoulder with a quirked brow. Lindsey almost felt guilty for getting his hopes up, but she wasn't planning on pouring her thoughts out on him.

Instead, she asked curiously, "Do you keep security camera footage after significant events?"

"Of course. Any particular reason?" He responded inquisitively.

"I wanted to add my debut to my portfolio."

* * *

"All I can say is thank the Lord they're finally putting you kids somewhere safe," Joan replied after being filled in by Lindsey when the latter returned to the penthouse, "This whole thing is disgusting! And I still can't get out of bloody London!"

"You so just said bloody and I'm thinking about having you straight jacketed," Lindsey said dryly.

"Sod off," Joan responded in the same tone, using yet another English term, "I hate that I can't be there for you and Abby. How're Bruce and Alfred doing?"

"Um, they're alright…"

"What do you mean?"

Lindsey cleared her throat, "Well, Bruce is standing in my door way with a funny face so I think he wants to talk to you."

Bruce, who was indeed standing in Lindsey doorway with said funny face, promptly took the offered phone from Lindsey's outstretched hand- not before lightly smacking her upside the head. Lindsey maturely retorted by sticking out her tongue.

"Hey Joan…yeah she's _packing_ right now," he emphasized 'packing' staring pointedly at Lindsey. She looked at the very empty suitcase on the floor by her bed and shrugged.

"Abby's staying here. She wanted to stay with Alfred."

Lindsey smiled, knowing how much Abby adored Alfred. She knew her sister would be in good hands.

"Alright…I know…Joan…yes…oh, come on!"

Lindsey laughed, just imagining her mother's voice filling in before Bruce's juvenile responses.

"I know, Joanie. Here she is."

Bruce pressed the phone against Lindsey's ear, walking off without even making sure she had a hold on it. Lindsey managed to catch the device and kick one of her pillows at him.

"Lindsey, honey," Joan started drowsily, "You know I would never support something I didn't think would be for your best interest."

"I know, Mom."

"I mean, if they were wanting to really put you in a jail cell, then I would paddle over there and chew them a new one."

"I know, Mom."

"But Lt. Gordon informed me that you and the other girls are pretty much staying at a five star hotel…just connected to the police station."

"I know, Mom."

"And I'm coming back in four days."

Lindsey chuckled, "Chase the rain away, Mom."

"Cute," she commented half heartedly before returning to her serious self, "I love you, Lindsey."

"I love you too Mom."

"Just…promise me you'll stay safe."

Lindsey was silent. How could she promise something like that? Nowhere seemed to be "safe." Although she could understand why her mother would be yearning to hear those words from her oldest daughter.

"I promise."

"Thank you," Joan answered breathily. Lindsey felt a pang of guilt stab at her harder than ever. She'd seen her mother cry once before – right after her husband passed, but Lindsey could tell she was choking back tears over the phone.

"Mom. I'll be safe. I promise."

"I know, Linds," Joan replied, "Now put Bruce back on."

Lindsey smiled and stepped out into the hall, where Bruce was checking his teeth in the mirror. "Hey," she shouted to startle him before tossing the phone at him.

Bruce clumsily caught the flying device as Lindsey sauntered back into her room. She pulled the dresser drawers open and threw handfuls of clothes in the general direction of her suitcase. She hadn't brought all of her clothes to Bruce's penthouse, but she decided to leave some in the room just in case. She'd already cleared it with him that this was _her_ room.

"_So when you bring girls home-"_

"_Women," Bruce corrected as he shoved her suitcases in the back of the closet, "Hasn't Barney taught you anything?"_

"_Barney doesn't teach us to dignify females," Lindsey stated defiantly before continuing the previous statement, "So when you bring _women_ home, this room is off limits."_

_Bruce snorted, "That so?"_

"_That is so. This is my room."_

"_Your two week room."_

_Lindsey flopped back on her bed, "This happens to be my favorite room and I've had to stay with you way too many times to not have a room. And when you rebuild the manor, I want a room there too."_

_Bruce chuckled and tossed the blankets Alfred had left by the door on top of the teenager, "Whatever you say, Doll."_

"Joan, she'll still be able to stay here. It's not like I'm going to build her a dog house and make her stay outside if you're trip's prolonged."

Lindsey snorted and muttered to herself, "He would."

* * *

"You know I don't want to send you here any more than you want to be here," Bruce confirmed to Lindsey as he parked in the back of the police station.

"Yeah," she answered curtly. Bruce continued as if she hadn't begun an attitude, "And as much as I'd like to keep you with me, there are only so many times we can screw up with you."

Lindsey narrowed her eyes briefly and looked at him from the corner of her eye, "We?"

"You haven't been a big help, now haven't you?"

Lindsey would have taken opposition by claiming she was helpful as a watchdog, but something about his almost invisible flinch and the way he smiled with the response sent her in silence. She'd seen him enough to know a few telltale signs he wasn't being completely truthful. What could Bruce be lying about, though?

After a few seconds of thought and the walk inside the building, Lindsey decided she was reading too much into the matter. Bruce Wayne and everything about his life was an open book. He had nothing to hide.


	12. Chapter 12: I've Got a Theory

**Chapter Twelve: I've Got a Theory**

The safe house wasn't what Lindsey expected. Then again, she had been fully prepared for a padded cubicle, but was satisfied with her new living quarters. Gordon had led her down a set of stairs she hadn't known existed and true to his word, she found herself in a small condominium setup.

They entered through a small, fully equipped kitchen with wine red colored walls, tan cabinets, and a matching table with four chairs. Next came the living room, which was small yet comfortable. Three rooms and one bathroom filled the next hall.

Monica and Angela were already in the living room sitting silently on the couch. Monica's face looked stone cold and stoic, a cross between infuriation and shock. Angela's eyes were pink and slightly puffy. The ignored television was playing a movie Lindsey did not recognize.

She tentatively took a seat between the girls. Gordon cleared his throat and only Angela and Lindsey looked at him to show he had their attention.

"I'll uh, leave you girls here. If there's anything you need, there are call buttons in the kitchen right next to the front door and next to this TV."

Lindsey and Angela nodded; Monica stared straight ahead. Gordon awkwardly left through the way he came.

"I'll be right back," Lindsey said quietly. Bruce had made her promise to call him when she got to the safe house.

* * *

"Lindsey?" Bruce answered. Lindsey nodded; momentarily forgetting he could not see her, "Yeah. I'm here."

"Everything ok? If it's not, you know I can get you out of there."

Lindsey sighed, "I really shouldn't leave the girls. The place is actually pretty nice."

Bruce was silent for a few seconds before saying softly, "You'll be out of there soon."

"I'm not in a jail cell. It really is just like a house."

"I know, babe," Lindsey could hear the smile in his voice, "Check in again when the phone's available."

Lindsey nodded again before voicing her affirmation and hanging up. Gordon had explained on the way down that the phone would only be accessible certain hours when the system was made untraceable.

Lindsey trudged back into the living room. Angela was looking through the cabinet underneath the TV for more movies. Lindsey took a seat next to Monica, who hadn't moved an inch.

"This is crap," Monica murmured, "All of this."

Lindsey gently grabbed one of Monica's hands and gave it a squeeze. Monica tightly shut her eyes and explained just above a whisper, "I should've stayed with him."

Lindsey nodded and allowed Monica to unload.

"That night…I went to see Dom. He was alone since his parents were working. And I mean, you remember, he was doing terrible. Even worse now than ever…"

"_Dom, stay strong. We need you to stay with us," Monica tried to reason with Dominic as they sat in his backyard. Dominic rested his head in his hands, "I don't think I can."_

_Monica began rubbing his back consolably, "This will all work out in the end, Dom. The police – Gordon – they've got a few leads. They'll find him. We'll be safe again."_

_Dominic laughed and sat upright, "Convince yourself that and I might start believing it."_

"_Well I have to believe it to keep you from doing something stupid," Monica snapped, "What do you have to gain from offing yourself, huh?"_

"_To save myself from him-"_

"_And put the rest of our lives in danger?" Monica yelled over him, "Real smart. Real damn considerate! That's exactly what would happen too! He'd just skip over you and get to the rest of us."_

"_Then it would all be over," Dominic concluded morosely, "That's what needs to happen to keep anyone else from getting hurt."_

"_Do you really think the Joker is just going to stop Joker-ing with us? You think after he kills the last of us he's going to set down his weapons, wipe off the makeup, wash out the green shit, and say 'Peace and Love to all humankind?'"_

"_Maybe you should go," Dominic implied softly, "I appreciate you stopping by, but I need to be alone."_

_Monica huffed and sat up from the bench, "Fine. I'll be back tomorrow though."_

"_I'll be here," Dominic answered with an involuntary smile. Monica stood shocked for a moment before nodding. "Take care of yourself," she hollered over her shoulder once she reached her purple PT Cruiser._

"Mon, you can't blame yourself," Lindsey reasoned, "You did what you could do. You were there for him when you could be."

Monica snorted, "Bullshitting him all the way through his last hours was all I did."

"It wasn't bullshit…not exactly," Lindsey trailed off, consuming herself in thought. Angela looked over her shoulder at the sudden silence. "Thinking, Brooks?"

"Yeah…" Lindsey answered absently, suddenly remembering what she had witnessed in the interrogation room, "Gordon may not have a lead yet, but I think we can get him one."

"How?" Angela asked, now facing the other girls. Monica seemed uninterested.

"That tape," Lindsey answered, "That first one!"

Angela picked up one of the old video tapes and read out loud, "The Rugrats Movie is going to help?"

Monica snorted again and Lindsey stared at the blonde incredulously before shaking her head, "No! The security cam footage!"

"The one with you in it?" Angela asked. Lindsey jumped up from her seat and began pacing, "Yeah. It's all connected. The parking lot, the house, the guy in the office, they're the same person…"

"What are you getting at?" Monica mumbled, still indifferent but rather annoyed.

"Look, the man knew something was going to happen to Dominic. He knew about John and everyone else and he was threatening the lives of people I love and the three of us. I think I know who this man is and if I'm right, who knows, this whole thing could be over really fast."

Angela sighed, looking more exasperated by Lindsey's ramblings by the second, "Lindsey, how are you planning on stealing – which you are ultimately doing – a security camera tape?"

Monica nodded in a rare occasion in which she agreed with the blonde, "Yeah, and you will get caught. In case you didn't know you're not exactly on Gordon's good side."

Lindsey laughed sardonically, "Am I on _anyone's_ good side? You know we probably don't even have to sneak in. Gordon might expect me to do something like this. He shouldn't be too shocked."

"Which could turn out worse for you," Monica warned, "He could already have extra security around to keep us out of there…wherever the hell you're wanting to explore."

"The storage closet in the interrogation room," Lindsey answered as if she'd been rehearsing, "I saw another officer put a crate of tapes in when I was talking to Gordon earlier. And I wouldn't be stealing it. I'm pretty sure there's a TV crammed in there somewhere. That interrogation room is just a big closet."

The other girls merely stared at Lindsey for a minute or two before Angela finally piped up, "I'm in."

Monica snorted, staring up at the blonde as if she just claimed to have found the cure for cancer. "Are you serious?"

Angela nodded, not looking at Monica, "The three of us need to stick together. If Lindsey wants to go down in a stupid way like this, then we will too."

"Preachy," Monica mumbled. Angela sneered at her, "Bitchy."

"So how about it, Mon?" Lindsey asked artfully, "At least just humor me."

"We get caught and I'm singing like a canary that it was all your idea, Brooks," Monica droned dripping with cynicism. Lindsey smiled widely, "Wouldn't have it any other way."

* * *

"Ok, I think this is it," Lindsey announced, pulling out a tape from the recycle pile. They had called asking for "personal hygienic items" and waited for the attendant to leave, making sure the door hadn't shut all the way, and snuck down the hallway with Lindsey in the lead to the smallest interrogation room.

Monica leaned uncomfortably against the door, "How do you know?"

"It says the date of that Friday. It's gotta be it."

Lindsey rolled a small TV out of the closet and plugged it in to the wall. She popped the tape inside the VCR and sure enough, she was reliving the parking lot incident.

"There's no sound…how do you know it's him?" Angela asked over Lindsey's shoulder.

"Hold on…" Lindsey watched intently as one of the men approached her on the screen. She hit pause as the man's face was directed right toward the camera. She leaned in closer and observed him.

"It must be the other guy," she stated softly. Monica groaned, "Linds, just...I'm really not understanding you right now."

Lindsey sighed dramatically and sat back on the floor. "The two guys I…encountered that night- the first time I was on the news- I'm almost positive they were the clown men who broke in and attacked me that night at Bruce's penthouse. The one we're seeing here," she pointed to the man on the screen, "must've been the one the Joker shot…so the one in the van is the one I hammered and the one who cornered me at Bruce's office. They had to have been working for the Joker."

Angela's gaze flicked from the irritated and tired Monica to the jittery Lindsey. She held out a hand for the latter, "Lindsey, I think you're one of those people who weren't made for Starbucks."

"Or caffeine," Monica added under her breath. Instead of taking Angela's help up, Lindsey sat cross-legged and glared at the two, "I'm perfectly fine! It's just all coming together now! The man at the office said that I caught the Joker's attention from the article and the parking lot thing being shown on the news. If these two were working with the Joker at the time…"

Monica used the remote to replay the footage until Bruce's appearance. With narrowed eyes, she continued Lindsey's theory, "Then they would've known you had some sort of connection with Bruce Wayne and told the Joker."

Lindsey nodded, but leaned back with her hands on the floor bracing her, "I just don't see how Bruce fits in here. I mean Joker doesn't seem like he's after money."

"Maybe he's gay," Monica offered with a face of perfect sincerity, "And finds Bruce irresistible."

Angela scrunched her nose as Monica's insinuation, "Or Bruce is Batman."

Lindsey snorted. Monica just rolled her eyes and snapped back, "Or _you're_ Batman."

"So?" came Angela's reply. Lindsey and Monica began laughing at the petty comeback, and Angela reluctantly joined.

"Ok," Monica said through continuous laughter, "Were you being serious? About Bruce Wayne being Batman?"

"He could be," Angela defended, "_Anyone_ could be. I actually think he's Gordon."

"If I were Batman," the man in question announced as he entered the room, "I'd solve global warming and build my daughter her Barbie Dream House. That's not happening though."

Lindsey could only smile and wave.


	13. Chapter 13: Three Blind Mice

**Chapter Thirteen: Three Blind Mice**

"I had to prove that he…"

"Anything could have happened! The poor attendant could have issued the SWAT team…"

"Well, you said you wouldn't listen to any more of my so called 'conspiracy theories' no matter how right…"

"You've got no proof! What did you expect to gain from this?"

"Can I at least explain?"

"I don't want to hear it right now, young lady!"

"It could help!"

"If it's about the three men you think are the same person-"

"Because he is all three one person!"

Angela and Monica sat in the living room while Lindsey and Gordon brawled in the kitchen. Not to any of the girls' surprise, they had been left off the hook while Lindsey received the full brunt of the red faced commissioner's berating.

"Do you think we're incompetent?" Gordon asked half yelling, "That we haven't already checked into that possibility?"

"Well, since that tape was to be recycled, then yes I do!"

"You're mouthing off to an officer and in any other situation you wouldn't be let off so easily," Gordon warned, "I'm going to have to inform Bruce and your mother about this incident."

Lindsey scoffed and snapped before stomping off to her designated room, "That seems to be all my guardians are good for these days!"

"Keeping your unappreciative hind safe? I see why you find that so appalling," Gordon retorted before he too left. Lindsey just groaned and slammed her own door shut. At that point, she couldn't have cared less that she had just sassed a man with cuffs.

* * *

"You didn't," Bruce stated doggedly. His elbow was resting on the table with his head in his hand, his other hand drumming exasperatedly on the steel surface. Lindsey waited stoically for him to continue.

"You can't…why?" he asked, hinds now folded as he stared her down with a chilling gleam in his eyes, "If it's going to save your ass, why can't you listen? You can't do everything yourself. Anyone could've just waltzed right in and finished you off. You're not better than the police and detectives on the case. Didn't you think they might've already had your theory in mind when they _interrogated_ the man?"

Lindsey didn't answer, just returned his angry stare with her blank one.

Bruce sighed roughly at her silence and leaned back in his chair, "You know, I should just say screw it. You want to be skewered and roasted on an open fire be my guest."

"That would sure save you the burden, wouldn't it?" Lindsey responded bitterly, trying to mask the hurt she felt at his words. Bruce's gaze immediately softened. "Lindsey…you know how much it would affect your mother, your sister, your friends, Alfred and me if anything happened to you."

"Yeah," she answered shortly, "You pretty much just said it."

"Your words," he confirmed, "Not mine."

"It's not what you say it's just…common sense."

Bruce's brow knit together as he leaned forward in confusion, "How?"

Lindsey let out a curt laugh, "Come on! None of this would've happened if not for me. You wouldn't be here right now having to send me to time out and scold me for sneaking out. You wouldn't have to be my dad…" She trailed off, suddenly unable to hold eye contact as she stared down at the table, "Babysitter…now."

Lindsey felt the tears stinging her eyes as she swallowed the lump in her throat. How could she forget about her father? What would he think of her now? Would he be ashamed? Would he support her? The main question floating around her head was what would her dad do?

"You know better," he lectured softly, "You know how important you, Joan, and Abby are to me."

Lindsey remained silent, still unable to look at him. She feared more than anything to see her father's disappointed face in Bruce's.

"Hey," he began encouragingly, "How about another tiramisu?"

Lindsey involuntarily smirked, still staring at the table, "I'm grounded."

"Come on, it's me."

She chuckled, finally able to look at his face, "Bruce freaking Wayne. I forgot."

Bruce managed to convince Gordon to allow him to take Lindsey out to eat with the promise to "ease her recklessness" along with the convenient fact of very low crime activity being reported in the past few days following Dominic's death. Much to her irritation, he felt compelled to stop for gas on the way to the restaurant.

"You're not even half way empty," she argued.

"It's a long drive."

"Well, let me get a Coke for the ride then."

Lindsey's late request was followed by a very lengthy list of what not to do in Bruce's car. Whilst he was explaining his rules, Lindsey decided to make a bathroom run and smuggle in a Coke. Whether she was planning on distracting him when she wanted a sip or not was still undecided.

Keeping true to her word, Lindsey did take care to actually enter the restroom. She stood in front of the mirror and almost laughed. She knew there was a reason she'd never gotten her hair colored in any way. In just a few days, she had developed light brown roots, which contrasted greatly in the bright light with the almost black dye.

Lindsey pulled a thin black headband out of her purse and adjusted it in her hair to help hide the color line. She couldn't remember when she'd actually taken the time to work on her appearance in the past week and a half.

As other women started to file in, Lindsey took her leave, bumping in to a hurried businessman on the way out. She stared after him as he rushed to swing the door to the men's room open.

In the brief seconds the door was open, Lindsey could see the reflection of two men in the mirror; two men in the process of putting on angry looking plastic clown masks.

Lindsey was back outside making a mad dash to Bruce's car before her mind could fully function. Bruce jogged a few steps to meet her and caught her by the arms as she was rushing past him. She was caught off guard and stumbled, but Bruce held her up.

"Lindsey, what…" He heaved an irritable side when she continued struggling to get into the car. He pulled her into one arm and practically carried her back into the car, carefully looking around in a quick check for reporters before climbing in the driver's seat.

"Lindsey, breathe," he ordered sternly. Lindsey shook her head violently and stared into the store of the station, an overwhelming sense of déjà vu consuming her mind.

"I am…I am, just…can we go now?"

"Tell me what's wrong," he commanded once again, not bothering to conceal his impatience.

"Clown men," she whispered. Instead of sounding the alarm, Bruce sighed, "Ok…ok, I'll go check. Will that make you feel better?"

"This isn't the monster in my closet or under my bed," she snapped, "This is real!"

"I'm going to go check for your Boogeymen," he continued as if she had not just spoken, "And then we'll just go back. I'm sorry."

Lindsey half groaned half yelled as he exited the car and walked toward the store portion of the station. The scene was way too familiar. She could almost see the fire and subsequently hear the maniacal laughter ringing in the air.

She leaned her head back against the seat and took deep, shaking breaths. A tap on the window startled her and she looked up at the face of the businessman she'd almost run into- the one that had gone into the restroom the clown men were in.

Lindsey rolled the window down slightly, but said nothing. The man – tall, dark haired, golden tan, bright blue eyes – looked just as on edge as she. "If this is your car, you might want to book out."

"Where the hell is he?" Lindsey asked unintentionally out loud. Hardly thinking straight, she opened the car door and stood behind it, staring at the door to the station. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, but she only then realized how empty the lot was. Bruce's car was the only vehicle…so where did this man come from?

A hand clamped tightly over her mouth from behind. Lindsey tried to scream and fight out of the man's hold, but suddenly felt something jab into her upper arm. Immediately, her vision turned fuzzy and distorted. The voices of the people rushing outside to help echoed into one distant, muffled sound.

The last thing she heard was a gunshot.

* * *

Lindsey woke up not on her own accord. She had rolled onto the arm her assailant had jabbed the needle into. When she checked the area, she noticed slight discoloration and hoped it wasn't infected.

Looking around the room she found herself in, Lindsey was bewildered. Instead of a dusty, dark dungeon as she had been expecting, the room seemed fit for a young child. The four walls were a bright yellow and held neatly aligned framework of poems and paintings of flowers. Stuffed animals of all forms were scattered along the walls and around the bed. The comforter Lindsey sat on was a light pink with matching yellow and pink pillows at her head. The carpet was pink as well.

While Lindsey had not expected the room she woke up in to be so cheerful, only one thing stood out in her eyes. One of the poems lay on the bed near her feet. Upon further examination, she found the title to be just as classic as the motif of the room.

"My three blind mice," a chilling yet familiar voice drawled from the doorway, "How does that one go again? Something about them running and getting their tails chopped off by the farmer's hag? Well, dear me, that's terribly unfortunate."

Lindsey stiffened as the Joker approached. He continued with his speech, "Perhaps if the other two mice had kept that one little squirrelly mouse under control and locked up, bad things would not have happened to them. Am I right, my squirrelly one?"

Lindsey dared to look up at him as he came to a stop at the bedside. The Joker chuckled, "Well, now those pretty little doe eyes should not be tainted by such a sour look." He flipped open a pocket knife in front of Lindsey's face and grasped a handful of her hair, "Fix it or I will."

Lindsey did not know exactly what he wanted, but found she could not be scared. Even though she was sure she had the police and Bruce out looking for her, she knew she was going to die. With the feeling that she had no chance anyway, she could not even pretend to be scared of the weapon. On the contrary, she was wishing the process to speed up.

"Interesting," Joker drawled, tipping the knife to trace the features of her face in the air just inches away from actually skimming the surface. Just as soon as it had appeared, the knife clicked shut and he stuffed it in his breast pocket as if it were a pen.

"Duty calls now," he announced, "You just sit tight and don't fly away, pigeon. Unless of course you'd like to take a shower. You smell lovely, but I don't much like the dye job."

Lindsey cringed at his faux friendly tone. Before he shut the door behind him, he said slyly, "I can tell we're going to be really good friends, Leslie."

As soon as the door slammed shut, Lindsey asked herself, "Leslie?" She shrugged it off, knowing the man was irrevocably insane. She stared back down at the framed poem on the bed.

"Three blind mice."

* * *

Do you know how good it feels to be one chapter away from being done with fracking reposts? Ok, so many of you do. Anyways, I just realized how irresponsible I made Bruce in this part, and I guess Lindsey too but she's a teenager and we're all stupid in our adolescence.


	14. Chapter 14: Gotham's Little Secrets

**Chapter Fourteen: Gotham's Little Secrets**

Lindsey was almost blinded by the harsh light of the restroom after she flipped the switch. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the white light before actually looking up from the ground near the door.

Lindsey walked the full way in and shut the door behind her. In contrast to the outside room, the walls were completely covered by newspaper clippings to the point where the color of the paint was a mystery.

Lindsey was not shocked to see the articles were all about death, some being obituaries. She assumed that all or most were ones the Joker and/or his minions had harassed, beaten, or killed.

Taped in the center of the large mirror on the wall above the double sink was the article about the fatal attack at Nick Ramie's party. Below the article lay a row of smaller clippings. The first one was announcing the death of Claire DeFranc, the circumstances at the time being undetermined.

Next to Claire's story was Nick's, which Lindsey could not bear to even look at for a second longer. The visual of the morning announcements was already playing back in her mind. Ian and Aubrey's starring story was taped next to Nick's. Then came John Carey's story. Lindsey immediately leaned against the counter to read it. Last she heard, John was still just 'missing.'

"The body of eighteen year old John Carey was found at Wickford Ski Resort in Wausau, Wisconsin. The resort had not yet been opened by the owners and grandparents of the victim, Jack and Ellen Carey, when the Gotham police arrived with a search warrant. The body was found in one of the storage closets in the basement…" She skimmed through the parts outlining the gas station incident until the final paragraph, "John's body was found with second and third degree burns on his arms, legs, and left side of his face. A smile was carved…"

The article cut off, having been ripped from the original paper. Lindsey wondered when the issue was released. The next article described Dominic's death, suffocation with a forced grin.

In the left sink, a couple of papers were crumbled into a messy pile. Lindsey grabbed the top bundle and carefully unfolded it.

"Dr. James Kinkirk named Trenton's citizen of the month," she red the headline out loud, eyes scanning over the information of the generous New Jersey psychiatrist James Kinkirk. She set the article in the right sink and spread out the next article, again praising the good doctor. The third article was of a more melancholy sort.

"A botched robbery left Jillian and Leslie Kinkirk dead in their living room last Thursday. The burglar was startled by the loud siren of the house alarm and by the residents' appearance that he shot the two. Police arrived before he could escape from the property. Jillian, 30, and Leslie, 6, were the wife and daughter of Trenton's James Kinkirk, who could not be reached…"

The article was cut off by the tear. Lindsey pulled out the fourth from the sink, which only contained the headline and the lead.

"Dr. Kinkirk admits to LA psych ward: Two months after the deaths of his wife and daughter, Dr. James Kinkirk has announced that he is checking in to a psychiatric ward in Los Angeles."

Lindsey grabbed the last two articles from the sink. One was dated to be her birthday, March 9.

"…On the first anniversary of his wife and daughter's death, Dr. James Kinkirk was taken to Arkham Asylum in Gotham, New York. The reasons behind the transfer are as of yet unknown…"

This article had not been torn off, but rather sitting in a shallow puddle of water, making the smeared print unreadable. The last article was still intact enough to read the main point.

"Seven years after James Kinkirk's disappearance…he has been pronounced dead."

Lindsey's brow knit together as she stared at the Kinkirk stories. What was so important about this man that the Joker would have kept the clippings? He was just a psychiatrist from New Jersey that, ironically enough, admitted himself to the psych ward after his family's death. He had been at Arkham before his disappearance apparently, but Lindsey had never heard his name before.

As she took a step away from the counter, Lindsey almost slipped on a few more papers at her feet. Crouching down, she picked up the two sheets. One was a summary of a case in which her mother defended a man who shot and killed his stepdaughter's biological father after receiving a phone call from her that he was in a drunken rage. That was Joan's first successful solo case.

The other article was Lindsey's very own- the one that started everything in her opinion – the varsity drug exposé. A corner of the paper was stuck under a loose tile. Lindsey plucked it away and blinked at the sight in front of her: part of a rusty metal handle over brown wood.

With a racing heart, Lindsey continued to pry the floor tiles off, thankful that they were merely cheap linoleum, until a door was completely revealed. Glancing skeptically over her shoulder at the bathroom door, Lindsey cracked the newly revealed flap open a crack, fearing both being caught from the main entrance and from below.

When she could hear no voices and see no secret meeting in the dark tunnel below, she jumped down.

* * *

"Mrs. Benedetti, you've got a call on line one from Joan Brooks."

Elvira Benedetti sent her assistant a curt nod to dismiss her before picking up the phone on the corner of her now cluttered desk.

"Joan?"

The women on the other end answered breathlessly, as if she'd been running a marathon, "Just tell me what's going on. Do not sugar coat anything the slightest bit."

Elvira Benedetti did not need to be told twice. Nothing sweet ever came from the straight laced woman's mouth. "The police and your designated guardian failed. Lindsey's been kidnapped. Angela and Monica are in the office with Carlo."

Joan remained silent as she evolved from a worried, frazzled mother to an uptight woman on a mission. "This is it then."

Elvira slid a few papers aside and revealed a manila file before her. "I've pulled up the files I could find here. I'm working on the LA asylum."

"Are we sure about this?"

Elvira's stone face relaxed as soon as Angela's blonde head poked through her doorway. The only question that had gone through her and Claudia DuPriest's mind was 'what if it had been my daughter?'

"We have to try, Joan. Maybe we can stop him rather than delay him for another year."

* * *

The fall was longer than expected, as evidenced by Lindsey's graceless landing. The door above her snapped shut.

"Damn," another voice sounded from next to her.

Lindsey wildly twirled around herself, trying to find the source of the tenor voice. A heavy sigh and sudden light stopped her movements.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked the man in front of her. Soon enough, she found asking had been unnecessary.

"Ah. You're the asshole who brought me here," she spat bitterly, "How's the day job working for you?"

The 'businessman' from earlier glared her down while shining his flashlight in her face, "I was on my way to help you, sweetheart."

Lindsey snorted. He sighed once again, "Alright. Fine. You're upset. I understand. But you need to trust me on this. I've got to get out of here just as much as you do. I was only temporary."

Lindsey bit back a snide retort and settled with a questionnaire. "Do you happen to know anything about James Kinkirk?"

"Not much. Why?"

Lindsey nodded toward the overhead door. "In the bathroom up there…it's like his own twisted memory box. He had four or five articles about James Kinkirk."

The man quirked a brow, and Lindsey caught a brief flash of anger in his eyes, "He's got newspaper clippings of his victims?"

Lindsey nodded, not bothering to add that she and her mother could be potential victims. The man pondered for a few moments before abruptly taking her by the arm and jogging in the opposite direction.

"This tunnel leads to the old subway station. We have to move fast though."

* * *

Bruce hated everything about this situation. His top priority was to find Lindsey and bring her home safely. He could not neglect his younger charge though. And while never since his return to Gotham had he been without Alfred, he did not feel safe leaving Abby with anyone else.

He'd sat Alfred down an hour beforehand to inform him of his plans. Both men were aware that Batman had never been without his guardian, but neither were willing to toss Abby in the potentially dangerous care of someone else.

Bruce tucked the sleeping Abby into the small couch on his private jet as Alfred spoke to the pilot. He tenderly brushed a few strands of blonde hair from her face. Soon enough, Alfred was by his side.

"You're sure about this?" the older man asked. Bruce only nodded, not taking his eyes off the youngest Brooks girl. He could not look Alfred in the eyes and claim to know just what the hell he was doing.

* * *

Finally! The end of the reposts! The next few chapters will be new to everyone. I'm not sure how many more there will be, but we are in the homestretch...again.


	15. Chapter 15: Another Lesson

**Chapter Fifteen: Another Lesson**

"You don't know where the hell you're going do you?" Lindsey stated rhetorically from her slouched position against the dirt wall, "And you haven't told me who the hell you are and why the hell you're helping me."

"Using 'the hell' three times in a row tends to weaken your credibility," the man answered as he circled himself with his dying flashlight. Lindsey snorted and allowed herself to close her eyes. The man hadn't made one move when they encountered a fork in the tunnel.

The echoing sound of chilling laughter startled her out of her daze. The man's now dim flashlight brought the Joker into view. He shoved the man aside and approached Lindsey in the darkness.

"Cursing is a terrible habit. It taints such a pretty little mouth."

Lindsey gasped as she was yanked to her feet and pressed against the wall. The light from the flashlight was now just a pencil thin ray.

"Hey," the man started shakily, "Look…you just need her to get the batman here. You don't need to hurt her."

"You see, little one," the Joker continued, "The lesson I've been trying to teach you is one of _etiquette._ And good manners are lacking in our friend, James, right here. You know what that means, Leslie?"

Lindsey whimpered as the Joker's grip on her face and hair tightened. She heard the man he'd just called James emit a low growl at the mention of the name Leslie, but could think no further of it. Joker leaned in a whispered, "He's no friend of mine."

Lindsey was released just as the flashlight died, leaving all three in complete darkness. James screamed in pain, which caused Lindsey to blindly sprint in any direction, James's further anguished cries and sinister cackling only increasing her footfall.

* * *

"Why are we doing this? We didn't have to sneak out. My dad will send every SWAT team after us, not just Gotham's," Angela rambled nervously from the passenger seat of Monica's father's car, which she innocently "borrowed." When Monica didn't answer, Angela snapped, "Well?"

"These men ahead of us were wearing clown masks. They must be _the _clown men working for the Joker. We may have a shot at finding out where Lindsey is since the law can't. Now just shut up and let me…ah crap!"

Monica slammed the break as the hooded figure of a pedestrian came to view. The old Honda Accord skidded to a halt just inches away from the person. Monica dared to breathe and relinquish her white knuckled grip on the steering wheel long enough to shift the car into park. Angela slowly slid her hands down from their position over her eyes and face.

With his back to the girls, the walker moved at a sluggish pace down the street and up onto the sidewalk. Monica leaned her head back against her seat and emitted a few short, shaking laughs. Angela stared at the other girl incredulously before joining her.

Their relieved laughter was cut short by a large pick up truck slamming into the driver's side of the smaller car.

* * *

Lindsey cursed loudly and kicked the nearest wall. Not surprisingly, she was hopelessly lost in the pitch black tunnel.

"Son of a…give me daylight!" she grumbled weakly.

"I couldn't agree with you more," the Joker cut in, "This won't do at all." Lindsey flinched as a harsh light flicked on from behind her. The Joker stepped around her to reveal a video camera with a massive flashlight crudely duct taped on top.

"Now, your bat buddy is having some difficulty finding you. I'm very disappointed. We'll have to give him a little clue."

He turned the camera lens to face himself, "And that will not involve the uh, consciousness of the girl."

The left hook he delivered sent Lindsey to the ground, but very much conscious. Lying on her left side, she brought her right arm over her face as the luminescent beam hovered over her.

"But if she wishes to be stubborn, that's her decision. You know, little one, I really wish you had some more respect for yourself. Had you made it just a few feet more, you would've found yourself free in the old subway system your late friend spoke of."

Lindsey rolled further onto her side, nearly on her stomach as the Joker squatted over her. "Care to comment? You should be screaming for help right now. People might think you're faking this whole victim thing if there's no screaming."

Lindsey felt herself being rolled onto her back. The Joker stood up, still with one foot on either side of the girl. "Maybe I should be a teacher. With every step of our journey, I find more and more ways to incorporate little life's lessons. This one involves children and the whole concept of being seen and not heard."

He delivered a swift kick to Lindsey's stomach, causing her to cry out and groan in pain. "The opinions of the younglings are often necessary. Take this sweet apple dumpling here. She's in pain. She's making quite a bit of noise to show for it."

Lindsey was then yanked up to her feet, giving her a sense of déjà vu. She staggered when he let her go and could only stare as he spoke into the camera again. "Now, I'm expecting the Batman to show up within twelve hours or the remaining little ones like this duckling right here will die."

Lindsey's breath was caught in her throat as the Joker's laugh filled her ears. He stared down at her as he shut off the camera and hit the light.

* * *

Angela growled in frustration when her phone continued to lack any service. At the same time, her vision would sporadically blur resulting from her head making brute contact with the window upon the crash.

Monica on the other hand was still out cold. Angela tried once again to rouse her. "Monica, come on. I need your help," she pleaded, very lightly shaking her by the shoulder, "Mon, please!" No response.

"Shit," she cursed, observing that the truck had the Cruiser pinned between it and a broken light post that looked like it was about to topple over any given second. The thought on its own prompted Angela to devise an escape plan.

"Monica, get your ass up or I'll have to drag you out of here and if you become paralyzed for the rest of your life and try to sue me I will countersue you for being difficult!"

"Will you even be able to get your ass through the back window?" Monica grumbled in reply. Angela inwardly sighed in relief, but snapped back, "About freaking time, you idiot."

Monica only nodded with an eye roll before unclipping her seatbelt. Both girls had gotten to the back seat just as the light post began tipping.

"Shit, move it!" Monica ordered before hitting the rear window with an ice scraper. Angela assisted in pushing out the rest of the glass when Monica made a break and they managed to crawl onto the trunk just as the pole fell on top of both vehicles.

"See," Angela pointed out after a few seconds of the girls catching their breath on the sidewalk, "That would've been you."

Monica scoffed, "As if you would've figured out to use the scraper to bust the window? You'd be hitting it with your own head before that thought even occurred to you."

"At least I would've _had _a head you Sleeping…Ugly!"

"Sleeping Ugly?"

Angela glared at Monica before realizing the latter was laughing. "Oh shut up," she mumbled, which only sent Monica into a further fit of giggles. Angela was about to retort with a snippy comment, but a woman's voice sounded from the building they were sitting in front of.

"Girls, you best come in. The creeps come out this time of night."

The girls each whipped their heads around to see a woman who appeared to be in her early forties standing in the doorway of an old inn. She looked friendly enough, casually dressed in jeans and a sweater with auburn hair pulled halfway up. Angela immediately sprung to her feet and rushed inside. Monica followed hesitantly.

The woman nodded toward the wrecked vehicles, "Which one's your car?"

"The little one," Monica replied dryly as she stepped in through the doorway. The woman sighed and shut the door behind them, "I knew that pole would be trouble. I'm not sure whose truck that is though. I'll go ahead and call Ray for the tow truck."

Angela marveled at the quaint setup of the front lobby. While the inn was nothing exquisite, she would never have expected to find such a comfortable place in the Narrows. She took a seat comfortably on the couch stationed in front of a small TV, Monica glaring at her the whole time.

Monica, contrary to her companion, hadn't allowed herself to go at ease since regaining consciousness. She listened to the woman leave a message to "Ray" about the wreck and then set the phone back on the hook.

"Do you girls want me to call your parents first of the police?"

Angela by then had felt the effects of hitting her head against the window and was dosing off. Monica only stared at the woman, who then felt it necessary to introduce herself.

"I'm Serena Strauss. I own the place. Sort of a refuge for the poor unnative souls who get stranded here."

Monica nodded, "Um… could you hold off on either?"

Serena quirked an eyebrow and asked, "Any particular reason?"

"None that I think I can tell you."

Instead of being offended, Serena only snorted. "Oh, sweetheart, you remind me of me when I was your age. And that Ray right now in his 20 years."

"Who's this Ray dude?" Monica asked, more out of annoyance than curiosity. "Ray Bristol," Serena replied simply, "He's my nephew. He's got a repair shop a little ways from here – deeper into the Narrows…what'd you say your names are?"

"I didn't," Monica answered, seeming to grow more comfortable with the older woman, "Monica DuPriest. Blondie's Angela."

Serena fell silent, studying both girls. Monica immediately regretted not using some sort of alias. Curiously, the one emotion she could detect in Serena's now tense stance was fear. Of what, she could not possibly imagine.

"Sorry dear," she said after what felt like an eternity of silence, "I'll have to be calling someone- before Ray gets here."

Monica rushed over to where Serena was standing and grabbed the phone from her hands, "What are you talking about? And what the hell does this Ray asshole have to do with anything?"

"This Ray asshole has to do with everything," Serena snapped back as she set the phone on the hook again, "At least now. If you two are who I think you are, then you're here in some stupid suicidal attempt to save your little friend."

"How do you-"

Serena held up a shushing hand and placed the key on the countertop, "Just take your friend to room 12 upstairs. I'll explain everything there."

Monica glanced back at Angela, who was passed out on the couch. She then stared back up at Serena. There was no way to tell if this woman could be trusted as of yet, but Monica had declared to herself from the beginning that this Joker was not going to be the end of her.

She could only hope Lindsey and Angela had the same mindsets.

* * *

Oh how I do love confusing you!


	16. Chapter 16: Tension

**Chapter Sixteen: Tension**

Lindsey hated this room. She hated this annoyingly albeit sardonically cheerful pink and yellow bed. Most of all, she hated the framed poem that still lay at her feet. The Joker had obviously come in while she was trying to escape with the man- James – and made his own alteration to the nursery rhyme.

She was still unsure to whom he was referring to, but she knew there was a very good chance she would not be leaving this house alive judging by the fact that "Three Blind Mice" had been scribbled out with red pen and changed to "Two Blind Mice."

But deep down, Lindsey knew the Joker meant something else. A nagging voice in her head was screaming that Monica and Angela was been removed from their safety confinements and were somehow going to be put in this mad man's clutches.

_Then he'll kill you off one by one, _she thought to herself, _Unless the batman gets here. But even so he'll take down any innocents like James…_

James. The peculiar man who had attempted to help her to freedom was just another thing eating at her. With a quick glance to the bathroom, she began to wonder…

* * *

Monica could only stare at Serena from her spot in the chair across from the bed. The older woman finished inspecting the wound on Angela's head as she waited for Monica to ask questions about her explanation.

"So…Ray…the Joker actually paid him to turn us in? How did the clown know we'd be here? How did Ray even know who we are?"

"Well, that's the thing, dear," Serena explained calmly, yet her irritated undertone did not go unnoticed, "Ray only knows you by name, not by face. And he was paid up front. He wouldn't tell me how much, but he said enough to get us out of the Narrows. Ray's a...stubborn, dutiful man. I tried to convince him to take the money and run, not to put you girls in any danger, but…"

A man's voice sounded from downstairs, "Serena! I got the cars towed. Need anything else?"

Monica was out the door before Serena could respond to her nephew. She took the stairs two at a time and stopped short at the base. In front of the door, hanging his coat on the wall rack was who she assumed to be Ray Bristol, but did not look like the man she'd expected.

"Damn," she couldn't help but say. The very attractive man who didn't look a day over twenty turned to look at the raven haired girl whose large gray eyes seemed to be boring a hole through him. He smiled warmly and extended a hand, "Hi. I'm Ray. You must be the little car's owner."

Monica cleared her throat and took his hand, "Yeah...I'm Jessica."

Ray's million dollar Crest commercial smile widened, "So Jess, do you need a ride anywhere?"

Monica pushed aside her incoming fantasies about the man in front of her and remembered what Serena had told her. Monica knew she couldn't trust this man, but so far she was enough on his good side to use him just a bit.

"Yes, actually. I mean, if it's not too out of your way…"

Ray shook his head and grabbed his coat off the rack again, "Hey, don't worry about it. I just have to meet up with a few friends first. It'll only take a minute and we won't even need to leave the truck."

Monica smiled cheerily and followed him out to the old red pick up truck, already feeling her heart beat faster thinking about Ray's "friends."

* * *

"Are you absolutely positive that you want to watch this, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce only glared up at Elvira Benedetti after the thirtieth time she'd doted on him. She merely raised her hands in a surrendering position before nodding to Gordon, who started to play the unlabeled video.

When seeing Lindsey on the screen, looking absolutely terrified, with the Joker taunting her, Bruce resisted the urge to punch a hole in the TV. Elvira hit the stop button after Lindsey received the first kick. For a minute, Bruce's heavy angry breathing was the only sound in the room.

Gordon finally said, "We've got the location of where this and the body were sent from. The subway should help us find it too."

Elvira nodded, "Have they identified the body yet?"

Bruce quirked an inquisitive brow, but didn't need to be told that the Joker's tape had been sent with a dead man.

Gordon nodded somberly, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Benedetti. But you don't have a case now."

The woman's dark blue eyes widened as Gordon concluded, "It's your man, James Kinkirk."

"That bastard…how could we not have known? It was getting too obvious…"

Gordon explained to the confused Bruce, "Mrs. Benedetti and her husband have been tracking the case of a New Jersey psychiatrist, James Kinkirk, who went insane after his wife and daughter's deaths. He was transferred to Arkham a few years after he checked in to a ward in LA. When he disappeared, he was pronounced dead seven years later and the case was declared cold."

Elvira continued, "Then after the Joker first arrived in Gotham, Carlo and I received in the mail Kinkirk's case file. Then he would keep leaving more cute little oblique hints that indicated his identity. Carlo and I, even Joan Brooks, we were so sure it was him."

Bruce sighed, "You're right. It was too obvious. Did you really think that there was a soul in this ass clown that was just begging to be found out? Or maybe you thought he was targeting Lindsey because she and Joan would help his create a sick new family? That's right, he's just misunderstood."

"Where do you get off saying these things, you little pissant?" Elvira spat. A ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of Bruce's mouth, "I believe those were your exact words. 'He's misunderstood.'"

Elvira shook her head and grabbed her purse, "Gordon, I'm not taking this unprofessionalism. When Joan Brooks gets here, just send her to my office."

Bruce chuckled and stood up, "Wait, Elvira?"

The terse woman pivoted and sat into her hip, arms folded. Bruce mocked her stance by crossing his own arms, "You said this man was from Jersey?"

"Yes."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you went to high school together."

Gordon blinked rapidly and looked between the smug Bruce and pissed off Elvira. She snapped, "What's your point, Wayne?"

"Well, you just seem to have had such a vendetta against poor James that it's made me wonder."

Elvira took a few antagonizing steps toward him and replied, "And pray tell, what is that?"

Bruce smirked down at the woman. Elvira was tall for a female, but Bruce still towered her. "Oh I don't know, maybe another girl was named Prom Queen, he refused a make out session at the drive in, gave you a fake number…"

"You think I was interested in that slime ball?"

Bruce blinked in mock surprise, "Dear, I'm having the hardest time figuring out what your husband is now."

Elvira poked him roughly in the chest, "Listen Wayne, I know you feel rightfully guilty about Lindsey being taken, but you will not turn this around on me. As far as I know, if you weren't personally invested you wouldn't give a shit about this criminal. Carlo and I followed a false lead as to the Joker's identity, but we do know that our man was somehow involved with the Joker. I want to put this case to rest to give his remaining family – friends of mine- some peace. We will find Lindsey and she will give us some testimony."

Bruce was glaring once more, "Get off your high horse and listen to yourself. You want to save an innocent girl to solve a case that might save your failing empire by kissing a rich family's ass for ten years. Like a said before, correct me if I'm wrong seeing as I'm not such a successful lawyer like you and hubby dearest."

Elvira angrily winced at his sardonic tone but kept listening. "But you did sound just a little incriminating there."

The woman sighed and shook her head, "Don't you dare insinuate that Carlo and I set up Lindsey's abduction."

Bruce snorted, "You didn't need me to that for you."

Before Gordon could intervene, another officer entered the room and approached him. "Excuse me sir, but we've received news on the other two girls."

Elvira's eyes grew wide in alarm. She grabbed the young officer's shoulder. "The other two girls? Angela and Monica? What about them?"

Gordon relayed the message he'd received from the officer in a hushed tone, "They've gone missing."

* * *

Coincidentally, Lindsey felt somewhat the same as Elvira Benedetti after reviewing the mounds of Kinkirk articles in the bathroom memorial type thing. She'd reasoned that the Joker knew he was going to kill the poor doctor from the start though.

The only unnerving thing now was the fact that she and her mother had made an appearance in the shrine. Albeit on the floor, but James Kinkirk hadn't been dead yet when he made his debut.

Lindsey pinched the bridge of her nose to keep the tears falling from her eyes at the thought of Angela and Monica. She knew he'd get to them before he touched her again. The fact that she could do nothing killed her worse than the thought of her _being_ killed.

A few minutes later, that thought process was halted by the presence in the doorway.

* * *

So...it's been a while...


	17. Chapter 17: Unraveling

I'm alive! And so it this story!

**Chapter 17: Unraveling**

"Gordon, it's Serena. Angela Benedetti is safe, but she's got a slight head injury. I'm taking her to the hospital right now."

On the other end of the line, Gordon anxiously replied, "What about Monica? And any word on Lindsey?"

Serena sighed, casting a glance at her semi-conscious passenger, "Monica slipped out with Ray. He doesn't know it's her though. I put the bug in his truck yesterday, so if it's activated now you should be able to catch him."

Bruce watched Gordon press a few buttons until a map of the narrows displayed on a wide computer screen, a bright blue dot traveling further into dangerous territory. He caught the mention of a "bug" through the phone conversation with an informant that had placed in the Narrows when the Joker first arrived in Gotham. Without a word, and without the preoccupied Gordon's notice, he slipped out of the station, calling up one Lucius Fox.

If he had to break the law to save Lindsey, so be it.

* * *

Ray didn't suspect a thing. If he did, he was a damn good actor. Although he looked more like a model than an actor…

'Stop it!' Monica berated herself, 'You are not attracted to him. He values money more than you life.'

As Ray finished telling her the story she'd only been listening to parts of, he flashed her his heart stopping smile.

'Maybe he'll change his mind when he finds out…No he won't. Stop sounding like Blondie. Shit, the old lady better be getting Blondie to a hospital. She was bleeding last I-'

"Alright Jess," Ray announced, the slight edge in his voice not going unnoticed, "This will only take a few minutes. People in the Narrows are shady, so just sit back and don't make eye contact."

Monica suppressed a snort, "I thought they were your friends."

Ray grimaced. "Not those kinds of friends."

As Ray pulled up alongside a boarded up building, Monica complied with Ray's orders and pressed back into her seat. Two men were waiting outside of the building. She almost snorted when she saw the men were predictably in clown masks. When Ray pulled shifted into park, Monica forced herself to stare outside her own window rather than glaring at the henchmen.

"Boss is getting antsy," one of the rasped, "He needs you to deliver. Now."

"That's too bad. I need cash."

The other man hissed, "We paid you already. You're not the one making demands here."

Monica dared a glance as the exchange continued, quickly ducking away as the second man's beady eyes met with hers as if he'd been staring at her the whole time. Ray just chuckled, "We agreed that the chunk of change you threw at me was only a partial down payment."

The first one seemed ready to pull out his hair…or Ray's, "You don't even have the girls-"

The second one interrupted him, catching Monica's eyes for a second time, "Yeah he does."

Monica swore under her breath, but luckily she was already sprinting away from the truck.

* * *

Calling the Joker a bastard as he literally dragged Lindsey out of the room and up to the roof of the building proved to be on her list of dumb ideas. He was currently pacing the perimeter of the rooftop, still dragging and swinging her with him, but now he had a knife dangerously close to her face.

"You wanna know how I got these scars, Leslie? There was a football player I went to school with. He was a druggie. I knew that," he suddenly shouted, "Hold still!"

Lindsey froze as the tip of the knife was pointed to her eye. As soon as she complied, the Joker repositioned it so it was ready to carve the traditional smile.

"So I made a bet with him, right before he nearly overdosed. He claimed his face was numb. So I did something like this," he traced the blade along her cheek, enough to scratch the surface but not to draw blood, "And he told me I could cut him and he wouldn't feel it, that he cuts himself all the time out of depression. Now isn't that sad, Leslie? Wouldn't you say that's a cry for help?"

Lindsey hoped her squeak would suffice as an answer. Luckily it did.

"I thought so too. So I said, 'Let's put a smile on that face,'" he bent over slightly to hiss in her ear, "He felt every bit of pain."

So what if the story was bullshit? It freaked Lindsey out enough to kick and elbow her way out of his grip. He had swung her so that a fire escape was in her field of vision and she made a break for the rusted metal stair case that in any other circumstance she would avoid. But if she was going to die, she decided she'd rather it be by pavement than this man.

"Keep going, keep going," she mumbled to herself as she practically slid down two of the stairways. Three. Now four. She lost count of how many floors she'd managed to descend to when she heard the unmistakable sound of a gun firing a bullet ricocheting off the ancient metal. The sound alone was enough to startle her into slipping down the stairs and landing awkwardly on one of the platforms, her right leg bending in a way she'd never seen or felt before.

The Joker fired another bullet, though it must have just been for fun or to scare her, which was undoubtedly humorous to him. She looked up and saw he was at the beginning of the fire escape from the roof.

"Look what you made me do!" he hollered as he leisurely made his way down the surprisingly significant amount of staircases Lindsey had managed to cover. She whimpered as she tried to move her right leg, instantly sending torrents of pain up through her hip.

"It's not like I want to hurt you, Leslie."

Lindsey emitted a throaty gargle of distaste, both from the pain still shooting up her leg as she used the rail to pull herself to a semi-standing position and the fact that his tone clearly proved that he actually quite enjoyed inflicting pain on her.

That, and he kept calling her Leslie.

"I didn't want to kill your father either."

"What. The. Hell?" she muttered, wincing as she put a slight amount of pressure on her right foot.

"I never imagined this would all boil down to killing my own brother, but James was about to reveal himself."

Lindsey hadn't noticed the Joker approach her until he had her chin in a vice grip. The mirth, that sadomasochistic gleam in his eyes was gone. She thought she saw a bit of…remorse.

James Kinkirk, the man whom the Joker had seemingly done some extensive research on and pegged as one of his next victims, was the man who brought her here. He was also the man who tried to save her. He was also the man the Joker had just killed. And he could have possibly been the Joker's brother who threatened to reveal the identity of the Joker himself.

Did Lindsey and her mother remind the Joker of James's wife and daughter? Joan and Lindsey would be about Jillian and Leslie Kinkirk's ages if they were still alive. Maybe Joan was at one time connected to the case. She worked with Carlo and Elvira Benedetti in the past and they were from the Trenton area…

In an instant, all traces of humanity evaporated from the Joker's face. He broke out into a grin, made excessively eerie by his scars. Behind him stood the Dark Knight, ready to pounce.

* * *

... Hi...


	18. Chapter 18: Beginning of the End

**Chapter 18: Beginning of the End**

Elvira Benedetti's office was thick with tension. She and her husband Carlo were sitting at her desk pouring over an open scrapbook. Joan Brooks, whose flight had landed in Gotham only an hour and a half earlier, was sitting across from the couple with her legs and arms tightly crossed. Gordon was seated next to her, his elbows propped on his knees and his fists up to his mouth. His eyebrows were furrowed as he stared lost in in thought. Claudia DuPriest, Monica's mother, sat on the other side of Joan completely confused and irritated.

"Somebody tell me what's going on right now," she ordered, "Because I fail to see how this has any relevance to our daughters' at the moment."

"The Joker is James Kinkirk's brother," Joan answered, not taking her eyes off the scrapbook on the desk, "My assistant was sent that book earlier today. It was confiscated from one of the Joker's hideouts a few days ago Gordon's men."

Carlo heaved a sigh and turned in his chair to face Claudia, "James was a man that Elvira went to high school with. His wife and daughter were shot and killed by a burglar about ten years ago. It was said that James went insane and checked himself into a ward in Los Angeles."

"Which seemed odd to me," Elvira cut in, similar to Joan still focusing on the scrapbook, "I spoke to him at the funeral. He was grief stricken of course, but clearly sane. I didn't hear from him again until I found out he went to LA. That was when I talked to his parents. They told me…that they thought he was actually looking for his older brother."

Claudia blinked in surprise, "Did you not know he had a brother?"

Elvira pursed her lips and shook her head, "They didn't tell anybody in Trenton about their older son. Apparently he was born with a brain tumor and they put him through some experimental treatments that caused some damage to his brain. I guess he started showing some sociopathic tendencies at a young age and actually tried to hurt James. They…couldn't handle it…so they moved near some family in New Jersey and abandoned him at a rehab center. They destroyed all evidence of their older son. James never even mentioned his brother."

"But he knew about him," Joan began speaking, "James actually wrote to his brother once a month. He kept every letter that his brother wrote back to him in this scrapbook we have now. They wrote to each other from the time James was ten years old up until a few months before Jillian and Leslie Kinkirk were killed."

Carlo flipped a few pages back in the scrapbook and turned it on the desk for Claudia to see, "James started writing some notes in this after the murder. He seemed to notice how his brother's mental state appeared to be deteriorating with each letter he sent. James also came to the conclusion that his brother was the one who broke into the house."

Claudia held up a silencing hand (which earned a quirked brow from Elvira), "First of all, does the brother have a name? Second, I thought I read in the article that the police caught the robber before he could flee the scene of the crime."

It was Gordon's turn to speak, "That was a faulty statement given to the press. James actually requested it so the citizens of Trenton would have some peace of mind. Nobody knew why he made that request at the time. If he thought the culprit was his brother we might have an explanation."

Joan waved a hand toward the scrapbook, "We don't know the brother's name. James never refers to him by name either. But anyway, James noted that most of his brother's later letters made very little sense, but he could tell his brother was jealous of James's life and family. Most of the letters also didn't have a return address or postage stamp, so James concluded that they had been directly dropped off at his house. He figured his brother eventually decided to confront him and, like the police report said, got startled by the sirens and the sudden presence of Jill and Leslie that he shot them and ran.

He decided to go track his brother down after the funeral. He faked his own insanity and followed an old return address to the psych ward in LA. There were no records about his brother, but he managed to squeeze some information out of his therapist after he was deemed perfectly sane. Apparently the brother threatened one of the nurses into walking him off the property and the center never found him or heard from him. James was released, but kept in hiding still trying to track his brother down."

"Exactly one year after Jill and Leslie's deaths," Carlo continued, "James found out that his brother had been taken at some point to Arkham Asylum. He got himself admitted by feigning insanity again, but still found no records of his brother." He paused to flip through a few more pages, "None of his notes are dated, but we think he wrote this a few days after going to Arkham. He talks about a man with scars on his face busting him and a few 'more sane' inmates out to 'join his team.' James started working with him, committing some thefts and break-ins in a few cities around Gotham. Later he talks about how his 'boss' decided to go by the name of the Joker…and James was certain this man was his brother, though he wasn't sure if this knowledge was reciprocated."

Gordon pointed toward the scrapbook, still appearing deep in thought, "We recovered that book after following a false lead to a hideout the Joker had already abandoned. James kept that with him since he was ten years old. We all figure the Joker must have taken it from him, but we don't know whether or not it was left behind on purpose."

"So the body the Joker sent you with the tape of Lindsey," Claudia confirmed, "That was James?"

Joan nodded, "We know James found out the Joker was his brother, and if the Joker really was the one who killed Jill and Leslie he had to have recognized James. Personally, I think James is the one who sent Elvira his file knowing she would somehow find out how the Joker was linked to him. I think he was also the one who left the book behind. Maybe he realized the Joker knew about him and would sooner kill his own brother than let his identity become known to the public."

"So," Elvira clapped her hands together, "We need to reveal this guy, after we take him down. If he's cold hearted enough to kill his own niece and sister-in-law-"

"Wait," Joan cut in softly, "You don't know that he meant to kill Jill and Leslie. James himself said he was just startled by the burglar alarm Jill set off."

Elvira stared at the attorney incredulously, "Ok, but what about the thousands of others he killed? The people of Gotham need justice!"

"The people of Gotham will always demand justice," Gordon droned, causing Joan to snort. She kept her gaze trained on Elvira, "All I'm saying is that somewhere inside, the Joker is human. He was already severely unstable when he went to see James. Accidentally killing a part of his family had to have sent him over the edge. If you want to talk justice, how about we target the hospital, the doctors, the researchers, the therapists who screwed up and created a monster?"

"How could you be defending this guy?" Elvira all but screamed, "He is trying to kill your _daughter!_ As a mother I hate to say this, but there's a chance he's already killed Lindsey."

"He hasn't," Joan spat through gritted teeth, "And he won't."

Gordon finally stood up from his chair, pivoting so he was staring down at Joan, "Let's go outside."

Joan blinked up at him confused, but nodded nonetheless and unfolded to full height. She didn't spare the other parents another glance as she strode out of Elvira's office with Gordon. The two rode the elevator down to the basement in silence. Instead of allowing the doors to open, Gordon keyed the emergency stop function.

"You're hiding something, Joan."

Joan sighed, sank into her hips and folded her arms, "Took you long enough."

* * *

"Hey, wait!"

Monica ignored Ray's orders from behind her as she kept her feet pumping. She swore under her breath as she found herself in an alleyway that led to nothing but a dead end. She heard Ray quickly closing in on her as her pace faltered. With a low growl, she planted her feet on the ground and whirled around to face him, catching him off guard as he slid to a halt in front of her.

"Is what Serena told me true? Are you going to sell me out?"

Ray blinked, dumbfounded for a moment, "Monica, Angela, whichever one you are…you have to understand I was only trying to help Serena and me get the hell out of the Narrows. I wasn't proud of potentially leading two innocent girls to…whatever the Joker was planning on doing, but you have to be selfish to survive around here."

"Well I have nowhere to go," Monica spat bitterly, "What are you going to do now? Are you still going to turn me in for some lunch money?"

Ray sighed heavily, running his hand through his disheveled hair which Monica couldn't help but notice still somehow looked beautiful. He nervously glanced behind him toward the opening of the alley, shifting his weight between his feet and shifting nervously. He turned back toward Monica, his enviously bright eyes boring into her dark browns. Monica could see the wheels turning in his head. She wanted to either scream at him or kick him in the crotch for even considering the option of still turning him in, but she stood frozen and silent as they studied each other. All of the sudden her breath caught in her throat. She realized why he had such an effect on her.

_If he was paler and put on some glasses, he would look exactly like Dominic._

"Ray…" she paused to clear her throat, "I get what it's like to feel responsible for someone else's life, but there's no way in hell you can even be thinking about taking me to-"

A loud rumble from overhead cut her off. Both Ray and Monica's attention was directed toward the fire escape connected to one of the buildings they were standing between. Monica narrowed her eyes at the crumbled form making strained movements from one of the middle platforms. She heard the person hiss in pain and somehow recognized the voice.

"Shit, Lindsey!" Ray was forgotten in her mind as she raced toward the fire escape. She nearly stumbled as she heard a gunshot, the bullet ricocheting off the metal.

Monica hopped onto the ladder leading to the lowest platform. She paused as she reached the top, counting how many sets of stairs she would have to climb to get to Lindsey, who was struggling to her feet. She began hurriedly padding up the metal stairs until she was caught from behind, a hand clamping over her mouth.

"I'm going to help you," Ray whispered close to her ear, "But we have to be quiet."

The next voice Monica heard was unmistakable. It was the nasally, nails on chalkboard voice she'd grown to despise; the voice that belonged to the Joker.

"Look what you made me do!" he hollered as he began clobbering down the stairs toward Lindsey. Monica and Ray quickly but quietly began to make their way upward.

"It's not like I want to hurt you, Leslie?"

Monica didn't pause her ascension, but furrowed her brow in confusion, "Leslie?" Ray simply shrugged, grabbing her hand as they drew closer.

"I didn't want to kill your father either."

"What the f-" Monica was cut off once again by Ray's hand. They were a few steps short of the platform Lindsey was stuck on. Monica's eyes widened as she saw the painful position Lindsey's leg was in. She could tell immediately it was broken from her fall.

"I never imagined it would boil down to killing my own brother," the Joker continued in a tone that might have sounded somewhat cathartic if it were anyone else, "But James was about to reveal himself."

Monica jerked in Ray's grip as the Joker reached Lindsey and took a rough hold of her face. Monica raced up the remaining few steps, catching the villain's attention. Her attention, however, was immediately directed to the Dark Knight himself looming behind the Joker.

* * *

"Let her go."

Lindsey never thought she could be happier to hear the deep, gravelly voice of Gotham's vigilante no matter how cliché his opening statement might have been. She wanted nothing more than to rush up to him, but her throbbing undoubtedly broken leg forbid her from moving from her spot. The Joker was still grinning at something behind her as he began to cackle, "My other little mouse is here. I think this is the one who gets her tail cut off, don't you Leslie?" He was suddenly jerked away from her and tossed back against the rusty metal railing. Lindsey looked over her shoulder just as Monica and a man she's never seen before squat next to her.

"Holy hell, Lindsey!" Monica gasped, "You're leg is-"

"I know."

The girls jumped as the Joker was dropped back onto their platform, Batman hovering over him with a fistful of his greasy hair. The Dark Knight's eyes scanned over Lindsey as he pinned the cackling clown to the ground. His eyes remained on her injured leg for a moment before locking with hers. At such close quarters, Lindsey could see every emotion that flitted through his hooded dark eyes. One brief spark stuck with her the most.

_Nobody has ever looked that annoyed with me... except Bruce…_

She had little time to dwell on the thought as the Joker suddenly got the upper hand, literally tossing the Dark Knight over the railing. The vigilante was quick enough to take his opponent down with him. Lindsey winced as she heard a loud crash from down below, assuming they'd landed in or around the dumpster or the wooden crates next to it.

"We have to get the hell out of her," Monica snapped, sliding over to Lindsey's uninjured side and sliding her arm around her waist. "Get her other side," she ordered the man. Lindsey turned to look up at him, offering him a small smile and sticking her hand out, "I'm Lindsey."

He chuckled and shook her hand quickly before gently grabbing her waist as well, "Ray Bristol." Lindsey looked at Monica with a mischievous smile, "And Ray Bristol is what to you?"

Monica stilled, staring at Lindsey with narrowed, incredulous eyes, "You're kidding, right?"

Lindsey sighed as Ray and Monica lifted her onto her good foot, "Just trying to ease the tension."

Monica grunted as they began to lead Lindsey toward the stairs, "To answer your question Ray is the asshole that was going to lead me and Barbie to our deaths."

Ray winced, refusing eye contact with either girl. He did most of the work in lifting Lindsey down each step. As they reached the next lower platform he mumbled, "I did it to-"

"Save it," Monica snapped, glancing down toward the alley just in time to see the Joker thrown up against the wall of the neighboring building, Batman's arm holding him in a chokehold. Lindsey took her moment of distraction to whisper to Ray, "Whatever happened, thanks for helping me now. She's not very forgiving but I think she'll come around for you."

Ray smiled down at her. He cast a glance at Monica as they began moving again. Before they could continue descending, the Dark Knight appeared in front of them. He swiftly grabbed Lindsey and held her bridal style. "The Joker went inside," he growled at Ray and Monica, "Follow me down."

Lindsey felt him spring down the stairs, skipping multiple steps at a time. She groaned, feeling motion sickness at his brisk, swerving pace and buried her face into his shoulder. Before she knew it he was setting her down in the passenger seat of what the general public was calling his Batmobile. She buckled herself in and looked back up at him. His eyes were once again locked on hers. And once again she felt a sort of familiarity with the caped crusader.

"No!" A masculine voice broke Lindsey out of her reverie. Another gunshot followed soon after. Lindsey whipped her head to face forward, gasping at the sight of Ray and Monica in a heap on the ground.

"Oh God!" Ray's voice cracked as he cradled Monica in his arms. Lindsey felt her chest tighten as the could just make out the red stain on Monica's shirt. The Dark Knight glared up toward the fire escaped and roughly grabbed Ray off the ground and tossed him to the side. He picked Monica up and put her in the back seat of his vehicle. In the blink of an eye he was in the driver's seat, and the vehicle was zooming out of the alley. Lindsey turned in her seat to check on Monica, whose breathing was becoming shallow and wheezy.

Lindsey bit her lip as a tear escaped the corner of her eye. Monica's head rolled to the side and the girls' eyes met. Lindsey caught the subtle movement of Monica outstretching her hand toward her. She bit her lip and grabbed Monica's hand firmly, not breaking eye contact even as her peripheral vision caught the bullet wound that was way too close to Monica's chest.

At the moment, Lindsey couldn't care less about the fact that the Dark Knight had essentially let the Joker go. The mass confusion the Joker instilled in her mind didn't matter in the slightest bit. All that mattered was the slight hope she held that their vigilante driver would be able to get them to help in time.

* * *

I so did not forget this! ...Ok, it is very possible that I did. But I reread it, remembered where I was going with it, and I will be finishing this sucker up before the end of the summer!


End file.
